


The Spark

by Supernaturally_screwed



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: (does her daughter have powers?? YUH BOYE), Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, But no men are involved, Centers around Vanya and her Daughter, Childhood, F/M, Family Bonding, Family Feels, Like the 43 women, M/M, Mother-Daughter Relationship, Motherhood, No Beta, Protective Vanya Hargreeves, Sibling Bonding, Smoking, Tired!Sarcastic!Single-Mom!Vanya is a mood, Vanya Hargreeves Deserves Better, Vanya Hargreeves Needs A Hug, Vanya Hargreeves-centric, Vanya has a kid, Vaping, We Die Like Ben, Will add more tags as I go along
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-18
Updated: 2020-08-27
Packaged: 2020-09-06 10:20:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 103,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20289847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Supernaturally_screwed/pseuds/Supernaturally_screwed
Summary: Something extraordinary finally happened to Vanya Hargreeves at age 22, but you wouldn't have heard about it. Nobody has- not until the funeral of Reginald Hargreeves, that is.The Commission has a code name for this event- the Spark. As in, The Spark that lights the Bomb.Vanya calls it the sudden and inexplicable birth of her daughter, Ella.When her father dies, Vanya struggles to combine her past with her present, especially since her daughter has more in common with her siblings than she does.





	1. The Beginning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiya all! My name is Katie and I haven't written anything in about 2 years. But I decided to sit down for 7 hours today and write, edit, and post this entire chapter. This idea has been bothering me for days, so here we are. I apologize- This is the first thing I've written in this fandom and I just have some trouble with tenses in general.  
This story will be following Vanya and her daughter through Apocalypse week and a little beforehand. If you enjoy this first chapter, please drop a Kudos, or even better, a Comment! I'm gonna write chapter 2 either way I think, but I'd like to know if anyone actually likes it.  
_ (Please for all that is holy tell me what you think im begging you im so desperate for approval) _  
Without further ado, here we go!

Vanya Hargreeves is well aware of the circumstances of her birth. 

It was one thing she clung to as a child, the one thing that made her the same as her siblings. It gave her hope. Hope that maybe she wasn't ordinary after all. Or, conversely, maybe she was ordinary and her mother made a grave mistake. Hope that maybe her mother was looking for her after all. 

That hope has had many years to shrivel up and die. When Vanya spares a thought to her mother now, it is full of resentment and the question _why, why would you give me up?_

For all that Vanya has thought about her birth, she never quite considered how her mother felt. She still isn't doing that, by the way, but after today it's something she'll put a great deal of thought into. Right now, her thoughts are centered on one thing and one thing only: how to make the pain _stop._

She had been practicing her violin- that's all little Number Seven ever _does,_ isn't it?- when suddenly, inexplicably, and explosively, her abdomen…. Expanded? Grew? There are no words to describe the event, but Vanya isn't bothered with describing it right now because her entire being is in horrible, all-encompassing _PAIN._

Her violin cut off with a sharp screech and dropped to the floor. She made an aborted movement to catch it which morphed into her clutching her abdomen, or at least trying to because _what the fuck_ there was something there that shouldn't have been.

She feels a sudden _gush_ between her legs and then suddenly her pajama pants are stained with blood and she's upset because she likes this pair-

_Pain._

She's stumbling towards the phone, blood trailing behind her and blood on her legs and blood on her hands and _blood blood blood-_

_Pain._

She reaches the phone and picks it up, staining it in red (_blood blood blood everywhere-_) when something registers in her mind. 

_Pregnant._

The dial tone echoes in her ears as she looks down to her round stomach in horror.

She drops the phone and leaves it hanging on the cord, partly because of shock, and partly because she knows she has no one to call, (another wave of _pain_ hits her) and partly because she (sort of) knows (hypothetically) what to do now. 

She frantically tries her best to recall anything and everything she knows about childbirth (it's surprisingly a lot, due to lots of daytime TV and lonely, lonely days with an entire library to read) and sets her shaky, bloody hands to work. Towels, (to stop the blood, or to wrap the baby in, oh fuck, a _baby-_) bathroom scissors, (to disconnect herself from another life, another _person-_) washcloths, (to wash things off… to wash _it_ off-) and anything else she can grab that might be remotely useful. 

Vanya half drags herself (_the pain is getting worse in waves_) and her haphazard supplies into her small, dingy little bathroom and thanks god that her shower is also a bathtub.

She starts to get in- but, won't the hard surface crack the ba- its head? Will it pop out at high speed like a baseball or will it be slow enough that head-cracking won't be a problem? Does she risk it? Vanya pauses. (_The pain doesn't._)

The water starts running. What temperature? Cold or Hot? Will too cold freeze it to death? Will too hot somehow damage its fragile, thin skin? She doesn't want to kill it. It being the baby. That she's having. 

Oh Jesus, what if _she_ dies? She doesn't want to die, not really, and especially not like this. How will they find her body, dead in a bathtub connected to a drowned baby? No, can't babies swim? Yeah. She's sure she's read somewhere that babies can swim. Okay, but no one will look for her. Not for days, at least. Oh God, she's gotta tell someone, anyone, even old Mrs. Kowalski, because she can't let the baby die with her-

The pain waves back through so badly that nausea swims through her and she lets out a drawn out groan. 

Okay. Okay. She needs to _shut the fuck up. _She's not dead at the moment, and she needs to do this. 

She steps into the water (She settled on warm water at some point) and the world seems to cut in and out for a while. She doesn’t know how long.

She knows that she starts sweating profusely, to the point where she can taste it in her mouth and see it in her eyes. 

She knows that she loses her pajama pants, her underwear, and her shirt at different points in time. She's left in a sports bra that she bought when she first left home. She's been wearing it for days.

She knows the water turns red, like everything else, and spreads the red to her midriff. 

She knows her hair has fallen slightly out of its hair tie, and strands are both sticking to her face and being blown forward with every breath.

She knows that she huffs and puffs through the pain, occasionally letting out little whimpers and groans and moans. She doesn't scream until the last push.

Are the lights flickering, or is that just her vision blacking out? Is glass shattering in the distance? Why is the wind giving her goosebumps on her sweaty, sweaty skin if the rest of her is so _hot?_ She doesn't know, she doesn't care, all she can hear through the ringing in her ears is her own scream being dragged from deep within her-

The last push makes the entire ordeal seem like it was for nothing, because all the pressure seems to disappear in one _whoosh._

Everything slows to a stop.

Her hands go down to try to pull something out of the water in an act of pure instinct, and she glances up at the digital clock sitting on the back of her toilet. 11:39 pm. She started practicing around 8.

11:39 pm on March 7th, 2012. Huh. She'll probably want to know that at some point.

She registers that her hands are holding something. Her ears are ringing and everything seems weirdly quiet. 

Well, no. The thing in her hands is wailing. She doesn't blame it. She wants to cry too. 

Vanya looks down.

Blue eyes stare back up at her. 

"H-Hi." She says, her hands shaking along with her voice. She's so- so- just--

Blue eyes are still staring up at her.

Tired. She's just kinda tired.

She slowly holds the thing- the baby- closer to her body, touching skin to skin and sharing warmth. The wailing seems to slow down. She stares at the baby- her baby, the baby that came out of her- and tries to ignore all her emotions for a minute. It doesn't work, because there's yet another one- this fuzzy, glowy, warm feeling in her chest. She's still staring. The baby stares back. 

It's a girl. 

The baby's- her baby girl's- crying stops as her eyes drift closed and her head snuggles into her mother's (her mother's, meaning _Vanya's,_) chest.

Vanya's dry, panicky sobs start. 

* * *

Vanya stays in the bathtub for a while. Numb, she thinks.

Some other stuff happens, something else comes out of her- it's not another baby, thank god- she's pretty sure that's normal, though? Either way, it's enough to wake Vanya out of her stupor.

She cuts the cord, (she's sure that this will all hit her really hard later.) Which gets a cry of…. Well, something from the baby- she doesn't know what different cries mean, (_yet_) or do they all sound the same? She's pretty sure you're supposed to tie it off, so she grabs some floss and awkwardly ties it with one hand, because the other is holding an honest-to-god newborn.

She stands up on shaky legs, careful to keep the baby close to her chest with both arms wrapped around it. Her earlier ruminations on broken baby heads come back to her and she feels a bit sick.

She goes through the motions of wiping the kid off and wrapping her in a towel, all the while her mind is catching up to her and all she can think is- well, no, she can’t. She can’t think. Her throat and her stomach feel flip flopped but she doesn’t think it’s from the birth. _The birth--_

She feels cold.

(Except for the fuzzy warmth in her chest that she can't seem to shake. It's warring with the cold and making her want to cry for real this time.)

Vanya slowly limps out of the bathroom and into the living room. She spots her violin lying on the ground where she dropped it and _longs_ to be practicing it again without a care in the world. 

She has the presence of mind to put down a towel before sitting down carefully onto the couch instead of flopping like she really wants to, because her baby has settled down and she doesn't want to wake her up. 

She's only 22. 

_What is she supposed to do?_

Thoughts seem to come pelting in from all sides but Vanya can't hear them because she's staring down at her baby in her arms. Her baby. _She has a baby. _

It's the tiniest thing she has ever seen. From its tiny little nose that looks exactly like hers to the tiny lips that are moving without sound. Its face seems to only be made up of chubby little cheeks and big yet little eyes. The eyes, her baby's eyes, seem to take up too much of her face to be real, and they hold so much life in them even when closed. 

A hand sneaks its way up from under the towel it's wrapped in and jerks around without any semblance of control. The little girl's fingers are so small and delicate that Vanya is almost afraid to touch them. She does anyway, and learns that babies are born with fingernails. Really teeny tiny fingernails. They don't have the right to be that cute and tiny, but they are anyway.

She slowly takes a small but fluffy decorative blanket from where it was folded on the back of her couch and wraps her baby in it. The child lets out little grunts of indignation at being moved that somehow make Vanya's lips twitch and a small _heh_ to slip out. Her baby settles into the brown blanket and into her arms.

All Vanya can do is sit there and study this child that came out of her. 

Vanya's never really had anything that was her's before. Even her beloved violin was a hand-me-down, a cry for attention that her father ignored.

_Her father-_

Vanya feels her insides freeze into ice. Her baby shifts against her, unaware of her sudden terror.

Her father can't know. 

This is the first time something extraordinary has ever happened to her and Vanya can't let her father know. She can't let anyone near him know, can't let _anyone_ know, because he would take the baby away.

_Her_ baby. 

(The fuzzy feeling is melting the ice and seems to be turning into molten steel in her chest)

She can't let him get to her, Vanya's baby, because then Vanya's baby would be in that house and _so so alone-_

This is the thought that spurs Vanya to stumble through her apartment, (She is finally thankful for the fact that she sprung for a two bedroom, even if at the time she was hoping she'd actually need a guest bedroom-) put on the closest clothes she could find one-handed, grab her wallet and speed out the door, baby in tow. 

* * *

The baby- _hers, her_ baby- is wrapped in both the blanket and Vanya's coat now, almost drowning in them, but Vanya holds her tight, holds her close. There's a wind that seems to follow them, but instead of the chill she fears, Vanya feels its warmth. 

It's odd, but her entire night has been fucking crazy. She's got shit to do, so she writes it off.

(_Hold her tight, hold her close- _)

She finds the first convience store open at- wow, it's 1:30 in the morning- and bursts in like a hurricane. An older woman is at the counter, and she looks on in concern, but Vanya zeroes in on the abysmally tiny baby supplies section and forgets everything. 

She can do this, she _has_ to do this-

Her baby starts crying as Vanya walks up to the counter with a pack of bottles and formula. Her breasts feel the same as ever and she's not willing to risk accidentally choking the kid to try the other option. 

The lady at the counter says something as Vanya stares down at her child in pure panic. Vanya looks back up at her and the woman seems to understand because she repeats herself.

"I can warm some of this up for you if you need me to, sweetheart." 

Vanya feels like she's drowning and this woman with kind eyes is her savior. "Y-yes, please, thank you so much ma'am."

(_Hold her tight, hold her close-_)

The woman nods to herself and sets to work, leaving for the back of the store with one last concerned look over her shoulder. 

Vanya knows she must paint quite the picture right now- pale, shaking, hair stuck to her forehead, eyes full of panic and limping through a store at almost 2am holding a poorly wrapped baby in a coat. 

She wouldn't have bet that _she'd_ be in this situation. She's too ordinary for this. She tries bouncing her baby a little to quiet her cries. It doesn't work and it's giving her anxiety so she stops quickly.

She looks down at herself, covered in grime and sweat and probably stinks to high heaven. God, she looks like _Klaus._

Though, probably less fashionable.

The giggle that that thought forces out of her quickly makes her feel like she can't breathe. 

Vanya holds her baby tight, holds her close.

The kind woman comes back, bottle filled with formula in her grip. She holds out her hands in question, a gentle smile on her face. 

Her arms hold her baby closer to her without her permission.

(_Hold her tight, hold her close-_)

Her body curls in on itself, (again, without her permission,) much like she did often as a child. Instead of protecting herself from harsh words, she's protecting her baby, her child-

(_**Hold her tight, hold her close-**_)

Vanya tries to breathe a bit more to make herself look less insane. 

It doesn't seem to work, because the woman's concern doubles without her expression changing at all. Her hands lower and Vanya's not sure why that calms her pounding heart.

"You want me to show you how to do it?" The woman- Her name tag says Cara- asks gently, in a tone that reminds Vanya of her mother, but more _real._ She hopes she isn't too frantic in the way she nods. 

So Cara does, she shows Vanya how to test the temperature of the milk and how to hold the baby just right and a few other tips and tricks that Vanya is sure she'll remember later. 

The baby quiets down, and her big blue eyes start to droop. 

Vanya feels like she can breathe again. And eventually, she does, in and out.

"There we go… You'll be okay." Cara says soothingly, but when Vanya looks up there's a soft hand on her shoulder and Cara isn't looking at the baby. 

There's a lump in her throat so she just nods as her tears flow down her cheeks. 

Her baby has stopped drinking, so Vanya pulls away and watches as her baby squirms.

Cara explains how to burp a baby, handing her a cloth from somewhere under the counter. Vanya does what she says, forcing herself not to float away as she does. Her baby needs her. 

They sit in a comfortable silence as Vanya goes through the motions. Cara doesn't push her into explaining herself, and Vanya is so grateful but the emotion is lost in the sludge of her mind. She hopes Cara understands, but she has a small feeling that the older woman already knows.

It finally works, so Vanya lowers the baby into her blanket/coat once more while Cara grabs the cloth and sets it aside. The woman is silent for a few moments, taking in the young mess of a girl in front of her with considering eyes. Vanya stares at her baby.

Drooping blue eyes stare back. They close as her little mouth is stretched into a big yawn. 

Vanya's face feels funny.

(The molten steel in her chest softens into a fluffy glow that starts to pump through her veins) 

She's smiling. She's not sure when the last time she did that was. 

(The glow is similar to the sparks she had as a child when Luther would give her a small smile at breakfast or when Diego stuttered out a _G-good Morn-ning Vanya_ or when Allison would ask to braid her hair or when Klaus would do goofy dances to cheer her up or when Five would sit in her room listening to her play or when Ben would quietly tell her that _It's gonna be okay Van-_)

She can taste her tears again, but there's no pain this time.

(She thought the sparks were Love, and they were, but she had no idea that they could light the campfire that lives within her chest now-)

"Sweetheart?" 

Vanya remembers that she has been standing in a convenience store smiling at a baby for a few straight minutes. She looks up at Cara. 

"What's your name?" Cara's eyes are warm, a deep green that makes Vanya think of jungle leaves. She's got a longer sort of face with lots of worry lines but just as many wrinkles from smiling too much. The woman's hair is such a solid gray that it makes Vanya wonder for a second if she dyed it that way. 

"V-Vanya. Har- My name is Vanya." She stops because she doesn't want sweet Cara to associate her with that man, that place. 

Cara seems to realize she's not going to continue. "Well, hello there Miss Vanya. My name is Cara, Cara Dermont." 

Cara Dermont has a sort of Southern twang in her accent that somehow makes Vanya feel at home, despite never setting foot in the southern United States.

The older woman pauses and Vanya can see the concern flood back into her green eyes. 

"Do you need help, Miss Vanya?" 

Cara's warm eyes and kind smile and well-meaning question cracks into Vanya's floodgates. 

"I- I just- I can't-" the fluorescent lights of the store feel like they are beating down on her shoulders, "I think- yes. Yes, I do, but-" 

"Then I'm gonna help ya." Cara cuts her off, and it looks like something has hardened behind the forest-y green of her eyes. 

"I- you don't- it's alright-" Cara is already moving around collecting things and Vanya feels floored. She was expecting Cara to call the police, ambulance, maybe even CPS, but not…. _This. _

The fact that it's the most unexpected thing to happen all day probably says something about her as a person.

"Baby, I'm not sure where you come from, but where I was raised, if a young girl comes into your place of business looking like death warmed over with a brand-spankin new baby in her arms, you do everything you can to help." Cara says with a determined air as she walks towards the counter with her arms full of assorted items, "I'm sorry if you don't want my help, sweetheart, but you're getting it. You look young and scared enough to be that baby's sister, much less her mother, understand?"

A wave of gratitude pours over Vanya, mixing with the warm swirling through her veins and it's enough to make her want to pass out with the intensity of it all. 

She settles for letting her face crumple and holding her baby closer. A warm, gentle breeze pushes her loose hair around her eyes, but it doesn't register in Vanya's mind. 

"Now," Cara starts while clicking a pen closed on the counter. "This here is everything this shitty place has that'll be useful for ya. It's on the house." Cara points her pen at her with sharp eyes, "Don't argue with me, just say thank you and move on." 

Vanya deflates from where she was getting ready to argue and mumbles a thank you.

"Good." The older woman looks back down at the paper she was writing on and rips it in half. She pauses and looks at Vanya again, "Do you got a place to stay? I mean, well, are you homeless?"

Vanya shakes her head, feeling like she's on a rollercoaster she didn't sign up for, "No, I-I got- have an apartment."

"Good." Cara says again, like checking off a checklist. She holds up one half of the paper, "This here's my phone number and address, which I will be sticking to your fridge when I help you carry all of this back to your place." She folds the paper and slides it into the nearest bag of supplies.

Vanya has given up the notion of arguing with this kind lady.

Cara holds out her pen and slides the empty paper across the counter. "Alright, now you write down your information and we will be on our way. I'm the manager of this joint and I hereby give myself the rest of the night and tomorrow off." 

Vanya stares at the pen as Cara chuckles at her own joke. Then the older woman understands the dilemma, travels around the counter and holds her hands out, sans pen. 

"Sweetheart, lemme hold the baby while you write. You look exhausted, how long have you been holding the little thing?"

_Since she was born,_ Vanya immediately thinks, which somehow makes her lips twitch. _God, hours…._

As if her arms could hear her thoughts, they flare up into a cramp at the same time. 

So, instead of tightening her hold on her baby like the last time Cara offered, Vanya slowly and carefully transfers her baby out of her arms into Cara's experienced, gentle hold. 

Her arms feel better, yet unbearably empty. She feels her chest tighten, and immediately sets out to write down her information as quickly as possible.

She could hear Cara cooing at her baby over her scribbling.

"Hello little… girl! Oh, you beautiful little thing… you and your momma are gonna be just fine, I'll make sure of it." The older woman whispers the last part, as if sharing a secret, but Vanya hears it anyway. "What's her name?"

Vanya keeps scribbling, struggling to remember basic information.

"Miss Vanya?" 

She startles, realizing that question was for her.

"Uh…" Vanya glances around desperately, as if the perfect name will appear in front of her if she hopes hard enough.

She sees her own name on the wall instead.

Wait, what?

Oh. She's in a Seven Eleven.

"Um… El… Ella. Her name is Ella." It won't hit Vanya until a few days down the line that she named her actual child after both a number _and_ a trashy convenience store. 

She hurriedly finishes writing out her address, (she includes her last name this time, figuring that if this entire situation doesn’t scare Cara off, a name probably won't do the trick) and then practically dives back over to get her baby back. Her _daughter,_ she realizes as the baby is passed back. Her _daughter _snuggles into her chest once more, fast asleep. 

She feels like someone is plucking a string of pure awe in her chest. 

Cara takes the slip of paper from the counter, pockets it, and then loads her arms with the many shopping bags that she deemed necessary. She ushers Vanya out ahead of her as she locks up the store. Vanya doesn't really notice, she's staring at her daughter again. 

(The warm feeling pulses through her blood.)

Then she's leading Cara and her army of shopping bags back to her apartment, not looking forward to explaining the mess. 

She presses a tiny kiss to her daughter's tiny soft head as she walks, the odd warm wind surrounding her.

(It feels similar to the warm singing within her.)

_My daughter,_ Vanya thinks, plucking that string of awe in her chest, _I'll keep you safe. You're never gonna be alone, Ella Hargreeves._

* * *

**1955**

The halls are completely jammed full of people.

Dot sighs, holding the folder she has to her chest. She has to get this to the Handler, it’s urgent. But would her co-workers care? No, no they wouldn't. They all acted as if their work was the most important thing going on in the office, but Dot thinks that frankly, all their tiny little assignments are insignificant compared to _the end of the world._

Another sigh. Perhaps she's biased.

She waits for the halls to clear enough for her to slip through with many well placed _excuse mes_ and hurries as fast as she can to the Handler's office.

"Miss?" Dot pokes her head in with a knock, spotting the woman herself with her feet up on her desk, signature cigarette holder in hand. Dot fights down the childish glee at seeing her iconic superior being… iconic! No time for that, she’s a professional.

"Yes, what is it?" Was that an eye roll? No, the Handler knew how important Dot's work was.

"I have a situation that I would like your opinion on, please." Dot hands her the folder, which the other woman takes leisurely without moving from her position, but Dot doesn’t mind. 

She watches as the Handler reads over the report, slowly pulling her feet down and leaning into the folder as she takes in its importance. 

"Well," Her boss says as she flips the folder closed, "This certainly makes our job easier."

Dot struggles to follow the logic at play, but falls short. "E-Easier, Ma'am?" 

The Handler stares at her like she has something gross on her face. 

"Yes, _Dot,_ easier. The bomb has given birth to the spark that will light it. If we kill this… _spark_ at the right time, it'll trigger the bomb, and possibly cause more damage than we ever could have hoped for!"

Dot isn’t really sure she’s following, but the Handler’s smiling, so she might have done something right. She smiles back.


	2. Ages 0-4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part one of two. Vanya learns, Ella grows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH FOR THE SUPPORT AND THE KUDOS AND THE COMMENTS! This is my most interacted with story! I'm so excited to show you want my brain has come up with!  
Oof. Okay, I finished writing this chapter and the next one 6 days ago, which involved an all-nighter and my mom demanding that I move from the postion I was in so I wouldn't get a blood clot. I wrote 12000 words, then I didn't do anything for almost a week. Then today I took my ADHD meds, got wired, and edited the chapters, so the grand total came out to 15000 words.  
I didn't want to bore my readers with too much info at once, so I cut it in half (ish) I don't know when I'll post the next chapter, I may wait until I have chapter 4 sort of written. Or, I might get too tempted by the feedback (if there is any) and post it right away. We'll see how it goes.  
Please enjoy, and I'll see you in the end notes!
> 
> ###### (please god give me your thoughts on this I'm so very not confident)

When looking back, Vanya won't really recall much from the rest of the night.

The walk back home is a hazy experience. She might have had small talk with Cara, but she's not sure. Either way she makes it to her building, and then in the next moment she's unlocking her apartment one handed, opening the door, and freezing.

There's blood everywhere. 

Her cozy little home looks like it has been ransacked, blood spread across the floor and on her phone (it's still hanging from the cord, swaying just the tiniest bit) and bloody handprints are littered on her counters, the drawers still open from when she ripped them out in a panicked frenzy. She doesn't remember knocking anything over, but she must have, because a few of her fragile knickknacks are absolutely obliterated all over the floor.

She's not breathing.

There's suddenly a soft hand on her shoulder and gentle words in her ear, leading her past the mess, past the horror show of her bathroom. (she faintly registers that her shirt from earlier has torn down the front, most likely due to the unexpected baby bump, and she mourns its loss. That shirt and those pajama pants had been exceptionally comfy.)

She's being led to her bed, and while most of her is dying to sink into her sheets, a detached part of her brain holds her baby tighter and refuses to let go, even to rest.

The soft hands leave her and when Vanya blinks, they are suddenly guiding her towards a pile of blankets on one side of her bed that weren't there a minute ago. Somewhere in her head she understands, because she's setting her baby gently into the pile and crawling into bed next to it.

The soft hands are gently sliding through her hair. It feels nice. She closes her eyes and lets the comforting mumble above her lull her to sleep.

When Vanya wakes, she doesn't remember. She sits up and takes her pill with the water on her bedside table as always.

Then the pain hits her, along with the memories. She glances to the side, and yep, there's a baby there.

She's expecting all of it to hit her like a wrecking ball to the chest, but instead it's more of a hard tap that starts her into action.

She carefully picks up her baby- _Ella,_ she remembers- and slowly walks into her living room, bracing herself for the horrible mess that awaits her. 

It isn't there.

Instead, she's met with a humming woman surrounded with cleaning supplies, scrubbing her floor. Vanya's not sure what to do, so she just stands and stares silently for a while. Dumbfounded. 

Cara notices her after a few minutes, and hums happily in greeting, "Hey there sweetheart, good to see you up. How are you feeling?" 

Vanya doesn't answer, can't answer, so instead just looks around at her suddenly clean apartment in askance. 

Cara stands from where she was kneeling on the floor, "Ah, yeah. I couldn't let you stay in that mess, now could I? So I sorta helped myself to your cleaning supplies and had myself a cleaning spree while you slept. I hope you don't mind, Miss Vanya."

Vanya thinks she makes a sort of half nod, half shake with her head. There's a silence. She's still holding a baby. Cara opens her arms to invite Vanya to sit on her own couch. She does, and Cara plops right next to her.

"Now," Cara says gently after they've settled, "You wanna tell me what went on here last night?" 

Vanya tries to cling onto her reasoning from last night, her fear of her father that keeps her from telling anybody the truth. But then she looks up into Cara's caring green eyes.

She cracks.

Vanya sits there, staring at a specific spot on her coffee table, and tells Cara everything with an absent sort of voice. She tells her about the 43 women that gave birth, decades ago. She tells her about the Umbrella Academy, about her siblings, about how she's _supposed_ to be ordinary. She tells her about her violin, just because she wants to talk about something normal for a while. And then she explains what she remembers about the night before. 

Cara listens, her deep green eyes never changing from their caring, concerned essence. 

There's a silence after she finishes. She stares at her baby, who is wearing a diaper, she notices. Vanya hazards a guess that the woman next to her is to blame.

Said woman sits for a minute, processing, then gets up. Vanya's sure she's leaving. She's probably tested the woman's patience too much, she thinks. She's taken this woman's kindness and ruined it with her stupid baggage. Cara probably doesn't even believe her, and she's somewhat grateful that she didn't have to see those kind, green eyes turn sour. 

There's a baby bottle being held in front of her face. 

She looks up, and to her surprise, Cara's still here. She nods toward the bottle.

"Take it. Miss Ella's gonna be hungry soon, so best feed her now." 

Vanya takes it, then does her best to recall what Cara taught her the night before. She must do alright, because the woman doesn't correct her, just watches her carefully.

Ella tiredly slurps down the formula, making tiny little noises now and then.

"Well." Cara says, startling Vanya, "I reckon we can hit the baby supplies store today, since we'll need a whole lot more than this." 

"Wh-What?" Vanya feels like she's just been smacked in the face, "You- I mean, You believe me?" 

"Of course I do Miss Vanya!" Cara sounds offended at the very thought, "The baby's done, sweetheart."

"Oh," So she is. Vanya takes the bottle away and belatedly remembers to start burping her, absently taking the cloth that Cara is handing her from one of the bags, "But I- I'm confused. Why are you helping me?" 

Cara's eyes soften. "Because you need help." She sees that Vanya is about to protest, so she cuts her off with a gentle hand on her shoulder, "Baby, you'll have to forgive me for assuming, but you don't have anyone else, do you?"

Vanya can feel her face losing color, because _no, she doesn't._

Her little head shake in response slowly becomes sobbing into Cara's shoulder. The woman rubs her back. Ella burps.

"There there, baby. You'll be okay." Cara soothes. Vanya sobs harder. Blue eyes stare up at them.

* * *

Her little baby is documented officially so Vanya can take her to the doctor. _Ella Grace Hargreeves_ is what the birth certificate says. Vanya hides it, as if that'll stop her father from finding it. Wide, bloody red lacerations are spread on her stomach in a gruesome imitation of stretch marks. They heal, and leave ugly, discolored, burn-like scars. Vanya just tries not to look.

Blue eyes slowly fade into brown.

Over the next few months, Vanya learns many things about motherhood and taking care of a baby. Cara always comes over after work at least twice a week, often more. She teaches Vanya everything she knows, guides her through her panic, and holds her when it just gets too much. 

Vanya's not sure what she'd do without her.

Somehow, she keeps up with her violin lessons after taking a few weeks break. She even manages to dress herself in clothes without any stains, a rarity these days. Her students don't notice enough to question why she suddenly has a baby, and so she hopes they also won't notice the increase in price. 

(Speaking of which, Vanya never thought she'd be thankful for anything her father did, but the money that Pogo probably convinced him to send when she first moved out is something that has saved her life. Those payments stopped a while ago, but she stuck it in a savings account and never touched it. Thank God.)

She's delighted to learn that her Ella loves the sound of the violin. She sets up a bouncy baby chair to lay Ella in while she practices, her own little audience. Depending on what she plays, it can put the baby straight to sleep or make her giggle and kick her little feet.

Vanya finds that the sound of her baby girl laughing feeds into her very soul.

(The fiery warmth in her chest has receded into glowing embers, but that's okay with Vanya, because it's _there_ and she still feels it with her entire being.)

For the next half a year or so, Vanya's entire life seems to revolve around Ella. She's always close to her baby, ready to tend to her every need at a moments notice. If Cara wasn't there to remind her, she's sure she would forget to do simple self-care things, like eating, or showering, for instance. She wasn't very good at adulting in the first place, so she struggles to actually have food in the house. Cara makes sure that she does.

Every day she wakes up, takes a pill, and then tiredly staggers across the hall to her baby’s room. She has been there through the night, of course, when Ella wakes up crying, but the morning always makes the room feel like a different place altogether. When she quietly opens the door, Ella is there, standing up against the side of her crib with bleary eyes. Her soft hair is messed up atop her head much like Vanya’s is. When the light from the hallway hits her little face, Ella always smiles and starts bouncing on her feet in excitement. It makes Vanya smile every day without fail. She then picks the girl up with a “Good morning, silly girl,” and off they go to start the day together. This little moment is the reason Vanya starts wanting to wake up in the morning.

When she goes out in public, Ella's there, strapped against her chest. She tries her best not to go out much, though, because then she constantly has to be on the lookout for one of her siblings. It makes her heart beat so hard against her chest that she starts halfway fearing a heart attack.

She has trouble being even a room away from Ella, as if her father will swoop down from the heavens and snatch up her baby if she looks away for even a second. The term _Helicopter Mom_ flits through her mind in these moments, but she always bats it away like an annoying bug. She knows it's not healthy, but she's not sure she cares.

Ella has started to make little noises that mimic talking, and Vanya parrots her right back. She often finds herself making random baby noises even when the baby's asleep. She's pretty sure she's never used her voice this much in her life.

She's also pretty sure that she's never been this sleep deprived in her life, but that's not of consequence.

It's not until seven months in that she realizes that she might need to talk to someone other than her infant daughter.

She has this epiphany in the midst of her daily feeding time song and dance number. Ella, as always, is a very good audience. She kicks her fat little legs in the high chair while she makes drawn out excited noises that increase in intensity as her Mommy inches closer with the spoon of baby food. Vanya makes exaggerated faces that mimic eating as she scoops the food into her girl's uncooperative mouth. Ella has somehow spread the goop everywhere on her body, including her hair. It makes Vanya smile.

"You are a mess, silly girl." Vanya tells the baby in a goofy voice that makes Ella crack up into hysterics, "Yes, missy, you are a mess!"

When she looks down at herself, she actually takes in the various stains all over and the fact that she's been wearing these clothes for longer than she can remember. 

_She's_ a mess. The thought seems to drain any energy she has out of her. She looks at Ella.

Ella smiles up at her with the few teeth she has. The food falls from her mouth and gets everywhere. 

So the next time that Vanya dials up Cara in a panic, as she often does, ("I named my _child_ after a _convenience store!_") She asks, "Where did you learn all this stuff, Cara?"

There's a silence on the other end, and for a moment Vanya is terrified she's offended the only person she has. 

Then the solemn answer comes through, "Why, I was a mother, once upon a time." 

That night, after Vanya has gotten Ella down to sleep, there's a knock at the door. It's Cara, with a bottle of wine in her hands and a story to tell.

Cara tells her about how she used to be married and living in Louisiana. She tells her about how she had a son after years of trying, after almost giving up because of her age. Cara has tears in her eyes as she talks about her little boy, and Vanya knows what she's going to say before she says it. Her little boy died. 7 years old, to cancer, she says.

Vanya rubs her back as she cries, as Cara once did for her.

The story continues, continues with a love turned sour, the hand that held her slowly turning into the hand that beat her, and an escape to far away. She tells Vanya about coming to this city, running to the nearest women's shelter, and desperately trying to forget that she had ever cared about anything. 

Cara looks Vanya in the eye and tells her that it all changed when a young woman came running into her store with a newborn baby in her arms.

Then both women are drunk and crying and holding each other, and Vanya has made her first friend in a long time. 

(Cara is the first person to bring those sparks back into her chest since she left home.)

This is why Vanya runs to the phone when Ella takes her first steps, because Cara would want to know about this. She only turns for a split second to dial in the number she knows by heart and when she turns back- 

Holy shit.

The phone drops.

_Her baby is floating in midair._

"Oh…" she hears herself say in a faint voice, "For _fuck's sake…_"

When Cara drops in to see her two favorite girls, she opens the door to find that the entirety of Vanya's apartment has been covered in bubble wrap and duct tape. As she stares at the mess, a giggling baby with all her extremities wrapped in layers of bubble wrap and a helmet goes floating aimlessly across her field of vision.

She finds Vanya rocking on the floor, surrounded by a shit-ton of bubble wrap and clutching a roll of duct tape. She’s blubbering incoherently about broken baby heads.

It takes a long time to calm her down. Ella provides the sound of her gleeful giggles as she slowly spins through the air.

* * *

Ella turns 2 and Vanya decides she trusts Cara enough to watch her. She knows Cara, she's friends with her. Cara understands them and cares about them a whole lot. Cara is possibly the only other person who knows how to handle a floating baby. 

It still takes a month for Vanya to leave the apartment without her daughter. Then it takes her another week to get out of the building without running back inside because she feels too incredibly _empty._

She's welcomed back with a “Mama!" And understanding green eyes every time.

Eventually, she is able to leave long enough to start going to therapy. 

She tells her therapist everything. From her childhood to the unexpected baby and the overwhelming fear of her father taking her child away.

Her therapist suggests that she write down her frustrations. So Vanya stops on her way home, buys a decently used typewriter, and she does. 

(The way that Ella runs to her when she gets home, screaming "MAMA!" And clutching her as if she'll disappear does _not_ help her separation anxiety.)

She writes. Not about Ella, never about Ella, because her therapist said to write her frustrations, and Ella could never frustrate her the way the rest of her family does. 

Her little girl tries her best, though. Vanya doesn't know why she convinced herself that the terrible twos were a myth. They're not. They're really, really not.

At first it was just the pure velocity of the tiny child. From the minute Ella had the whole running thing figured out, she was off like a bullet. She is constantly in motion, running and squirming and wiggling and jumping, constant, _constant_ motion. And that was just on the ground. Vanya must have pissed someone off upstairs because _her_ baby is able to _defy gravity._

((Vanya is reminded of Klaus.))

(She writes about being ordinary.)

Ella is curious. She digs through anything and everything she can get her tiny little hands on, and then some. When Vanya catches the kid about to taste a butter knife that she somehow got out of the drawer, she goes out and buys lots of child locks. 

When she turns around to find her child floating in front of an open cupboard, waving a small pan around, she goes out and buys more. 

(She writes about being useless.)

Ella is smart. After a particularly angry tantrum, she realizes that her toys are floating in time with the stamping of her foot. Pale green sparks travel between her fingers like a taser as objects fly behind her. Soon after this, floating objects become the norm in the apartment.

Vanya had been really hoping that her little genius wouldn't put that together, but oh well. She buys puzzles and some of those bracelet weaving kits and starts encouraging Ella to do them with her. The little girl does so with enthusiasm. Vanya hopes the little movements that the activities require will help her girl learn control.

She has no idea what she's doing. This is the most guesswork she has had to do in her life, but she tries her best to look confident around her child.

(She writes about being unable to help, unable to understand.)

Ella is creative. When Vanya catches her drawing on the walls, she gives her a firm _"no,"_ and waits for the tantrum she can see brewing on her little screwed up face. To her surprise, the toddler just hangs her head and walks away. Vanya raises an eyebrow, makes a note to work on saying sorry, and starts to wash the marker off the wall. 

She finishes and turns around to see her Ella floating above the mantle with her markers drifting around her like she's a sun. Greenish electricity is slowly traveling up her little arms under her skin in time with the markers’ movements around her. There's a new drawing in place up on the wall.

She sighs and gets ready to face the mother of all tantrums.

She ends up leaving the mural, though.

(She writes about being ignored.)

Ella is loving. She dances in midair like a floating ballerina to the sound of her mother's violin, giggling and laughing when she loses her balance and ends up flipped upside down. Her Mommy grins at her from where her chin is tucked into the instrument. She always lands and waits until Mama lets her put away the violin, and she always makes sure to do it just like Mama showed her.

Ella runs away and hides when her Gramma Cara brings out the tickle witch, but always lets it catch her in a fit of giggles and screams. Ella lights up whenever her tummy grumbles, because then her Gramma pokes her belly and says _"I can hear your tummy monster!"_

Her Mommy is not a fan of that phrase for some reason.

Ella knows when Mama is tired and while she sometimes uses that to be naughty, she always knows. When it's late enough and Mama looks extra tired, Ella will tug on her sleeve and ask, "'jamas?" She'll grab her binky and her bear and climb onto the couch where her Mommy's resting. Sometimes Mama will read to her, and sometimes they just cuddle. Ella doesn't complain when Mama holds her tight.

((Vanya is reminded of Ben))

(Vanya writes about loving and not being loved in return.)

Vanya writes and writes and writes until she feels like she's filled to the brim with bitterness and resentment.

She takes a pill, but holding her daughter close works better than her medicine ever did.

* * *

Around the time Ella turns 3 Vanya gets drunk with Cara and decides to send her writing to a publisher, singing _fuck you dad~_ to her giggly friend the entire time.

She regrets it immediately the next morning. 

Her little girl has started to become stubbornly against accepting help. She still dances to the violin and lets her mom kiss her forehead goodnight at bedtime, but almost everything else is met with a determined "I do it!" Followed by angry struggles. 

((Vanya is reminded of Diego))

Vanya mourns a little, takes a pill, and starts to teach her daughter how to do things instead of doing it for her. 

Making breakfast is now accompanied by Ella (literally) hovering over her shoulder, taking in everything she does. Mommy's still the cook, Vanya tells her, but she lets her floating daughter do little things like passing ingredients and buttering her own toast. Ella masters everything thrown at her with a smile and eyes that ask, _"What next?"_

Insistent hands bat her away from holding pants open for little kid legs to step through, so Vanya shows her how to hold them open herself. She demonstrates how to put on all the other clothes too, which results in backwards pants, sideways shirts, and just some truly terrible outfit choices.

Every mundane task she does is observed by big brown eyes floating above her shoulder.

Cara finds it funny, calls her "Mama's little shadow" when she tickles her. Said Mama is so thankful for the other woman, because Vanya can't keep up with her daughter's constant playful energy. The most she can do at times is playing “the spin game.” 

“The Spin Game” starts with Ella hanging upside down in the air, her smiling face in front of Vanya’s. Vanya kisses her forehead and then shoves her daughter’s head to the side as hard as she can, sending the little girl spinning head over heels and laughing hysterically. The spinning slows down, and then Ella’s back, saying “”gain, ‘gain, ‘gain!” through her giggles. Repeat ad nauseam, occasionally add in a “silly girl,” or a “goofbucket,” fondly when Ella is rendered unable to speak due to both the blood rushing to her head and her nonstop giggles.

Vanya has almost no choice but to deal with the girl’s energy, because the one time that Ella was left to find her own entertainment, Vanya entered the room to find her clinging to one blade of the ceiling fan, screeching in delight as she was pulled along at high speeds. Vanya is still convinced she blacked out for at least a solid minute while standing there in shock. 

And that's another thing Vanya's always been useless at: powers. Specifically, her daughter's.

As far as she can tell, her daughter is able to lessen the effect of earth's gravity on herself and the objects around her. There’s no visible effect when she flies around besides the occasional little nosebleeds from overuse, but when she floats other objects, there are pale-greenish-bluish sparks that travel between her fingers and on the surface of her hands. The sparks pick up in intensity when she lifts heavier things, which is something that scared her when she first tried to pick up the couch to dump Vanya off of it. 

Occasionally, she's able to make objects orbit around her person. When she does this, the sparks around her hands seem to sink into the skin of her arms and travel upwards. At first this power is worrying and the cause of many headaches, due to random objects smacking Vanya in the head when Ella passes by. Thankfully after a few months of bracelet making and other crafts that Vanya had picked out, the flying objects around the house becomes less common, only flaring up when Ella is especially emotional. “Emotional” meaning when she feels any emotion very strongly, which is unfortunately often, because Ella is a very excitable three year old.

Vanya has also noticed that her daughter has started to have control over which direction her body and the objects she floats actually go. When she shifts the weight of her body, Vanya sometimes notices a slight, faint greenish glow in the palms of her tiny hands. When she intentionally shifts the weight of other objects, the sparks on her hands give a pulse of brightness before fading back to their original state. Once she notices it, Vanya can’t seem to stop thinking about the implications of this new discovery. After an all-nighter of panicked speculation, she decides to just ask the source about it.

"Uh.." Ella ponders her mother's line of questioning from where's she's working on yet another picture for the wall. Her fingers are covered in spit and hanging out of her mouth, so Vanya gently pulls them out, a habit she's picked up to try and break her daughter's habit. Ella seems to find the words.

"It's like… I put the heavy in my feet so I don't float away, but now it's like I can move the heavy." 

It's not eloquent, but Vanya understands. "That heavy, it's called weight. And the force that pulls the weight down so it doesn't float away is called gravity. You understand?" 

Ella's eyebrows are furrowed like she's thinking really hard. Vanya sighs. She's trying to explain physics to a 3 year old. She grabs the closest thing to her, a box of tissues. She holds it up high, makes sure Ella's watching, and then drops it to the ground. 

"You see how it got pulled to the ground?" A nod, "That pull, that's gravity." 

Ella's smiling and nodding excessively now, "I get it! ….Why I f- foat?"

"You _float_ because youuu-" Vanya tickles her belly with one finger and gets a giggle, "my silly girl, seem to be able to turn gravity on and off, like a lightswitch." 

"Oh." Ella picks up the tissue box, "...that bad?" 

"No!" Vanya interjects so suddenly that it makes Ella jump, "No, no no no. It's not bad, Ella. It just means you're special." 

"Oh. 'Kay." Ella says, and then she's staring at the tissue box like it's a puzzle to solve. She drops it like mommy did, her hands light up a greenish teal-

**THUNK.**

Both the girls jump at the unexpected, loud noise. Ella starts crying out of fear so Vanya holds her, still reeling with nostalgia, because the way those tiny hands lit up is reminding her of a certain teleporter. She shakes herself out of it and then checks-

Yep. There's a crack in her floor. She's definitely not getting the security deposit back.

Add "Super Gravity" to the list of powers, then. 

She eventually calms a hysterical Ella down, and then sits her in her seat in the kitchen. Vanya starts pulling out the ingredients that she knows she has but never touches. 

“I know you’re scared baby, so I’m gonna make you something that I used to make when I was little. It might make you feel better.”

Ella tilts her little head, her face still soaked with tears. She looks really curious, but stays where she is. Probably scared to float like she usually does. Vanya sets the plate in front of her.

“It’s a Fluffer-Nutter. Peanut butter and marshmallows.” Vanya tells her, smiling as Ella pokes at it, “It’s a treat for learning something new, even if it was scary.”

Ella looks at her shyly before hesitantly nodding. She picks up the sandwich and takes a bite. 

Vanya covers her chuckles with her hand. Ella looks like she has seen God.

There's a few more scares with this newly discovered power of Ella's. The first is when poor Mr. Puddles gets into Ella's room without her expecting it, which results in angry, squished cat yowls and a screaming, crying toddler running into Vanya's room at 3am, shrieking "I didn't mean it! I sorry!!!" Over and over into her mom's chest. 

The second incident is the first time Ella gets in trouble for using her powers on Vanya. She made it so Vanya's feet couldn't leave the floor to avoid bathtime. For a few minutes, there is a naked toddler running around the apartment with her little fists lit up with green-teal plasma-like light. It's not until Ella slows down, suddenly short of breath and pale, that the light disappears and Vanya can move again. Bathtime commences after a time out and a scolding. Vanya has to continually wipe away blood from her baby's nose. Afterward Ella tiredly refuses to eat her snack, (peanut butter and marshmallows) saying it tastes funny.

Cara laughs when Vanya tells her about it, applauding the girl's creativity. Vanya is not similarly amused. 

The publisher gets back to her, telling her that her book holds promise. It's weird to see it referred to as a _book,_ when for a year it's just been the edited ramblings of a bitter woman. She's about to write a response when she glances up to see her baby and her friend conked out on the couch, snuggling up with one another. Then she's suddenly so, _so_ angry at her father, for the constant fear of this being ripped away from her at any second-

Her pen hits the paper.

She gets an idea after Ella's… _incidents_ to help both Ella's powers and her social life. She's not sure if it's any good, though. When she tells Cara about it, the woman actually has some connections to make it work. So a few days after the bathtime incident, (Which is something Ella feels really bad about when she's told she might have hurt her mommy like she hurt Mr. Puddles,) Vanya sits her daughter down for a long talk. She explains that not many people have powers like Ella does, and so when Ella goes out she has to control herself. She makes Ella pinky-promise that she won't use her powers anywhere but at home. 

The next day, Ella swings between Mommy and Gramma Cara's hands as they walk to the community center. They sign her up for Gymnastics.

Ella takes to it like a moth to a flame. She's accepted into the class of three other little girls, and she instantly becomes the life of the party. A few words from her has the entire group of girls descending into giggles within minutes. Vanya's not sure where she gets it from. 

((Vanya is reminded of Allison.))

They call her daughter a prodigy, and Vanya swells with pride even if she suspects that cheating might be at play. She still cheers and claps way louder than the other parents when she sees her little girl twist and flip through the air. The others stare at her but for once she doesn't fold under the attention because her daughter is smiling at her and giving two enthusiastic thumbs up.

Vanya joins the orchestra a month later, craving something like what her daughter has for herself. The extra money is a close second reason for joining. Cara helpfully watches Ella during Vanya's late rehearsals.

Vanya tells Cara one late night that she feels bad for never giving anything back in return for all the help. 

Cara replies, "You and Miss Ella have become my little family, Vanya. I reckon that's payment enough."

Vanya tears up and holds her friend’s hand. She gets a watery smile back.

Vanya's book comes out.

Diego corners her after rehearsal a week later. After the initial shock of seeing his face, her entire being fills with fear. If he knows about the orchestra then he might know about Ella's Gymnastics which means he knows about Ella which means her _father knows-_

He holds up an article that the newspaper did over her book. They mention that she plays in the Orchestra. Oh. Silly number Seven, thinking that her brother actually keeps up with her-

He chews her out in front of the building. She feels her indignant anger run cold in her veins and says lots of horrible things that she doesn't mean.

She takes a pill as she storms away. 

Cara takes one look at her when she gets home and nods towards Ella's room. "She fell asleep waiting for you."

Vanya nods, dumps her stuff onto the couch, and quietly sneaks into her baby's room. She slowly inches her way into the small bed around the sleeping child without waking her up.

She settles against her tiny back and just listens. She can hear Ella's deep breathing, can smell the watermelon shampoo that she insisted on buying, ("'melons! Gotta get 'melon, Mommy.") And if she focuses enough, she can feel the faint beat of her daughter's heart.

(The warm comes back with a vengeance, sparking into the smooth embers that she's used to and lighting into a campfire within her chest. It slowly melts away the ice left over from her anger.)

She holds her baby close and quietly cries herself to sleep. 

* * *

Ella turns 4 years old, and then the questions start.

When they're at the park: "Mommy? What does grass taste like?" 

She gets her own answer when Vanya doesn't know. The answer is gross. It tastes like gross.

While she struggles to hold her tiny violin the right way: "Mommy? How does the violin make noise?"

Vanya starts to answer but Ella asks another question before she even finishes. She scolds her for interrupting, but answers anyway. (The question was _why do people have toes? What are they even for?_ She doesn't know.)

When they're at the library and Ella pops her head around wall of child psychology books that surrounds Vanya: "Mommy? Do penguins have teeth?"

Vanya is surprised to say she doesn't know. She looks it up later. They do, and it's terrifying. She would pass this information on to Ella, but the 4 year old has already forgotten her inquiry.

After Gymnastics: "Mommy? Why does Julie have blue eyes and Gramma Cara has green eyes but we have brown eyes?"

Vanya doesn't know how she's supposed to explain genetics to a little girl.

When Vanya's trying to sneak a quick rest, and a face suddenly is hanging upside down inches from hers: "Mommy? Why don't I have a Daddy?"

And now Vanya's suddenly wide awake. She answers, "Do you need one? You have me!" And thanks whatever deity that's up there when Ella gives her an accepting nod.

Even when Cara's there to distract her: "Mommy? Why is Gramma Cara's hair so gray?"

Most likely seeing Vanya's face, Cara swoops in and answers. 

("Well, I dyed it that way because I didn't want to wait for it to turn this color."

"Oh… Mommy? Why would her hair _turn_ gray?") 

She tries to mentally send her gratitude, because she's too busy keeping her eyes squeezed shut and her fingers rubbing at her temples, as if that will help. She feels like if she hears _Mommy?_ One more time she will make something explode with the sheer power of her annoyance.

But then the questions take a turn towards a subject Vanya's been dreading, and those are, of course, the ones that Ella waits patiently for her to answer. And she knows she has to answer them.

They're walking out of the movie theater for the third time this year. 

"Mommy?" 

Vanya's eye twitches. "Yes, my dear?"

"Why we go to movies a bunch?" 

Vanya absently corrects her grammar and swings their linked hands back and forth, waiting hopefully for Ella to ask literally any other question. She doesn't, of course, so Vanya braces herself for the barrage of questions this answer will trigger.

"We go to see movies sometimes because my sister is in them, and I'm proud of her." 

As predicted, Ella's head whips toward her so fast that Vanya's afraid she hurt herself, "You got a _sister,_ Mommy?"

The awed sparkle in her eyes almost makes Vanya laugh, "Yeah, I _have_ a sister. A bunch of brothers too." 

Ella's mouth is open and Vanya can hear the questions being asked, but she decides that talking about one sibling is enough for her mental state today. She spots a poster of the movie they just saw and points to it, diverting her daughter's fickle attention away from her throwaway comment, "There she is. That's her, that's your Aunt Allison." 

Ella rushes over to it like a bat out of hell, letting go of Vanya's hand and almost giving her an anxiety attack in the middle of a mall. 

Vanya chases after her, preparing herself for the questions about their differing skin tones and why she hasn't mentioned her sister before. But Ella's just standing there, staring at the overly-photoshopped poster of her aunt in wonder. She seems to sense her mom behind her, because she whispers, "She's pretty, Mommy."

Vanya carefully grabs her daughter's hand back to get her own anxiety under control, "Yes, she is, sweetie."

They start walking away after a few minutes, but Ella is not satisfied. She still keeps trying to look back at the poster over her shoulder, and it makes it hard to walk. Vanya thinks that's the end of it, until Ella looks up at her and says, "I'm proud of Aunt Allison too, Mommy."

Vanya smiles at her sweet little girl, and bites her tongue as memories of childhood Rumors rush back to her, "That's good, sweetheart."

It happens again on the way home from Gymnastics a few days later when Vanya suddenly reaches out, rips down a poster from a nearby telephone pole and stuffs it in her pocket. She prays that Ella doesn't notice.

"What's that, Mommy?" Drat. Another cunning plan foiled.

"It's a poster for a boxing tournament." Vanya knows better than to hope that that'll be the end of the questioning.

"Oh." Ella scrunches up her nose, "You like boxing, Mommy?" There it is.

"Well, no." Vanya doesn't even want to know how her little girl knows about boxing, "but your Uncle Diego fights in them sometimes, and I like to check up on him." 

She doesn't look, but she knows there's a tilted head angled up at her. "Uncle D- Dee-go?" 

A laugh bubbles up from somewhere in her chest, imagining how pissed off the man would be if his niece knew him by _Uncle Deego._ She's so very tempted to not correct her simply out of spite. 

"Dee-_ay_-go, honey. He's one of my brothers. I grabbed the poster because it had his picture on it." And because it's too close to her building for comfort.

Ella is simply oozing curiosity, so Vanya looks down to where she's trotting along beside her, her gym bag almost dragging on the ground because _I carry it, Mommy! I can do it!_ Vanya points ahead to where she can see their building now, "Here, let's get home and then I'll show you, okay?"

Ella looks like she wants to argue, but she nods. That being said, she nearly pounces onto Vanya the minute they walk through the door. She somehow gets the poster from Vanya's pocket and races to their tiny dining table to sit and stare at it.

When Vanya comes over, her brother's picture is being shoved in her face. "Look, Mommy! We got the same last name!"

Vanya smiles tightly and nods, "Yeah, you _have_ the same last name." But Ella's too enraptured with the poster again to listen to her correction. She doesn't even notice when Vanya pulls her shoes off. Vanya wants to roll her eyes, but it's both too cute and too sad for her to quite manage it.

Ella goes running down the hall with the poster and some tape, but Vanya can't be bothered to figure out what she's doing. She'll find out soon enough.

Cara comes over later that day, and when Vanya tells her about what happened, she is betrayed by the only person she trusts. (AKA, Cara rolls her eyes at her.)

"Sweetheart, you're gonna have to tell her eventually. Just do it, get it over with already, I say." 

Vanya curls in on herself because she knows that her friend is right, "I know.. it's just, I was hoping to keep her away from all this."

Cara raises an eyebrow, "'All this' meaning your family?"

"No!" Yes. "No, I just meant all that superhero, superpower bullshit. I watched as it ruined my siblings, I don't want it to ruin my baby." 

Cara fixes her with a deadpan stare, "Hon, I'm not sure if you noticed, but your kid _floats._ You're gonna have to deal with at least a little bit of 'superpower bullshit'"

Vanya flops back onto her seat and groans into her hands. "Please stop being right."

Cara hums and leans back into the couch. "And plus, Father Hitler has to die sometime. Are you gonna keep her from meeting her family then?"

Vanya snorts and ignores the question, "I'm not sure that man is human enough to ever die. Do you know the lifespan of a demon?" 

They both start laughing so loudly that it calls Ella out of her room. She greets her Gramma Cara happily but quickly goes back to her room, saying she's "working on something."

Vanya is dreading whatever it is.

With Cara's advice in mind, she goes out to the library to collect some things. Even after two years it feels odd to be out without Ella, so she's quick about it.

When she comes home, Ella takes her by the hand and forcibly drags her (she even goes as far as to use her power to make her mom lighter so she can pull her along, which earns her a scandalized _"Ella Grace!"_) To her room. Cara is useless on the sidelines with a smirk on her face and Vanya hopes that her glare conveys her thoughts on the woman's behavior.

She's dragged in front of a wall in Ella's room and what she sees there almost makes her cry.

_"My <strike>Famlee</strike> Family"_ is written on a piece of paper near the top of the wall, and pictures are crookedly taped in the space under it. There's lots of pictures of Ella and Vanya, at different ages, most likely stolen from picture frames around the apartment. Then there's a wallet sized picture of Ella with Cara from about a year ago, and it's worn like it's been held many times. She glances to Cara in the doorway; she shrugs. 

What really breaks Vanya's heart is the other side: the poster of Diego is there, taped next to an advertisement for one of Allison's movies that looks like it came from a magazine. Vanya vaguely remembers scolding Ella for ripping one at the community center two days ago.

She looks down. Ella's staring up at her, anticipation radiating from her very being. Vanya gets down on her knees and hugs the life out of her sweet, loving baby girl. There are too many conflicting emotions crawling up her throat to identify and it's making her chest ache. 

Her mind made up, she grabs Ella by the hand, (“Where we goin’?”) plops her down at the kitchen table, and gently sets a picture in front of her.

It's the Umbrella Academy. One of their first missions.

Ella glances at it, but returns her eyes to her mother, confused. "Who're they, Mommy?"

Vanya takes a deep breath. "That's my family, sweetheart."

Ella suddenly studies the picture like a woman starved. Then she frowns. "Which one is you, Mommy?"

In and out. "I'm not there."

A head tilt. "Why not?"

Vanya takes another deep breath, in and out, and then tells her baby everything.

(Almost everything. She doesn't tell her that their names used to be numbers. She doesn't tell her the specifics of her siblings powers, mostly because she doesn't want to deal with nightmares about ghosts and tentacle monsters. She doesn't tell her about the loneliness.)

She goes down the line, pointing each sibling out and telling her daughter about them.

She tells her daughter about Luther, their fearless leader. She tells her about his dreams about space, and his music that would always float through the house.

She tells her daughter about Diego, the angriest of her siblings. She tells her about his resolve to be the best, his constant stubborn arguing. She also tells her that no one loved their mother more than him.

She tells her daughter about Allison, the darling of the Umbrella Academy. She tells her about the sparkling dresses and beautiful makeup. She tells her about kind smiles traded across the dining room. She tells her about how her sister basked under the attention with grace.

She tells her daughter about Klaus, silly Klaus, the one who made everyone laugh. She tells her about how he sometimes went out of his way to goof around with her to cheer her up. She tells her about daring midnight escapades, (she doesn't tell her what they were for) about how he could light up a room by walking in. She tells her that his powers slowly broke him down, but Klaus fought back with a smile. (She doesn't tell her child that Klaus didn't win in the end.)

She tells her daughter about Five, her first friend. She tells her about quiet times in the library and frantic ramblings about things that she didn't even begin to understand. She tells her about feeling his firm presence over the sound of the violin and about peanut-butter marshmallow sandwiches. (Ella is delighted when she finds out that she shares a favorite sandwich with her uncle.) She tells her about his determination to always do more, always learn _more,_ and then about how he was suddenly _gone._

She tells her daughter about Ben, her kindest brother. She tells her how he feared his power, and never wanted to hurt anyone. She tells her about his quiet love of books that he would pour over at the breakfast table. She tells her about his soft touches when she was sad and his gentle hugs on a bad day. She tells her that his silent, loving support was the glue that kept the family together. She tells her that they all fell apart when it was gone. 

("Gone? Like Uncle Five?"

"No, baby. Your Uncle Ben… he died, sweetie. On a mission, a long time ago."

"Oh…." 

Her baby tears up for someone she never even knew and it tugs on Vanya's heart.)

When she's done, she asks Ella, "Do you have any questions?" As if she doesn't know about the rapidfire interrogation about to commence.

But surprisingly, Ella is silent for a long while. She stares at the picture and holds her mom's hand. 

Then, "Where are they?"

Vanya hopes that doesn't mean what she thinks it does. "Well, right now, Luther's on the moon-"

Ella isn't even distracted by that comment. "No! Why’re they not _here?!_ Don't they love us?" 

Vanya's heart is breaking at the tears in her baby's eyes, so she ignores the tiny voice in her head that says _no, of course not, _ "They don't know about you, sweetheart. I didn't tell them."

She can see the agonized _Why?!_ In her child's eyes and it hurts. "This man, this is my father." She points to where Reginald is standing in front with a dignified air, "He was very mean to my siblings, and me. If he knew about you, knew about what you can do, he'd take you away from me."

_"No!"_ The scream rips itself from Ella's throat and she throws herself into her Mommy's arms. Vanya rocks her back and forth while she cries and holds her close. A hand comes to rest on Ella's shoulder. Vanya looks up and finds Cara standing there with wet eyes.

"That's why we can't tell your aunt and uncles." Vanya says after a while, "We have to wait until my dad isn't able to take you away. We have to wait until it's _safe._ Understand?" 

Vanya feels a nod into her shoulder. 

They sit there for a long time, the little family, holding each other. Vanya rubs her child's back until she calms down. She's going to get up soon, when lo and behold:

"Mommy?"

Vanya lets out a sigh of bemusement. "Yes, my dear?"

Some snuffling. "C’n I sleep with you tonight, please?"

Vanya closes her eyes and smiles. "Yeah, baby, of course you can."

They both stand after squeezing each other extra tight. Cara hugs both of them lovingly, with a whispered "_Good job, Mama,_" into Vanya's hair. Vanya holds her tighter and sighs into her shoulder. She would be lost without this woman.

After Cara leaves and Pajamas are put on, Vanya starts to worry that she's thrown too much information at her little girl. Ella's been quiet ever since her Gramma left. Vanya's scared that she's snuffed out her little girl's spark for good.

But then Ella lifts her head, a new idea in her eyes, and opens Vanya's bedroom window with a flick of her wrist. Before Vanya can even ask what she's doing, the little girl is hanging half her body backwards out of the opening into the night air. She's staring up at the sky and waving one arm as much as she can.

"G’NIGHT, UNCLE LUTHER!" She screams at the top of her lungs.

Vanya ignores the sounds of her neighbors complaining, because her heart is warm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .....Eh? Ehhh?
> 
> PLEASE let me know what you think with a comment! This is the first time I've written in the present tense while also speeding along the years! Also PLEASE PLEASE PRETTY PLEASE let me know what you think about the characters. Is this realistic? Does it feel natural? What do you think of Ella? YOUR OPINIONS ARE MY LIFE FORCE.
> 
> Tbh the four year old section was my favorite to write. Tired!Sarcastic!Single-Mom!Vanya being sassy in her head is my favorite. Also, Vanya and Cara's conversations always make me happy. I suck at writing dialogue, but whenever those two hang out, it flows so smoothly. And Ella- Little Ella has actually taken my heart and flown off with it.
> 
> Please let me know what you think! I am super nervous about this chapter and the next. 
> 
> NEXT TIME: More child-rearing, more sass, and Two wild Uncles appear!


	3. Ages 5-7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enter Oblivious Dumbasses. Also, Vanya's tested as a mother and a friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **I CHANGED VANYA'S AGE IN THE SUMMARY AND CHAPTER 1 TO 22, BECAUSE MY MATH WAS WACK. I AM DUMB AS HELL, SORRY.**
> 
> Holy shit, ya'll went feral for last chapter, I'm freaking out. Thank you to all the commenters, and everyone who left kudos, and basically everyone who read it! Also shoutout to my parents, who read this despite never watching the Umbrella Academy. It's still weird that you guys read my fanfiction, but thanks.
> 
> This is a big boy of a chapter. I just kept adding too much. Also, let me know how the dialogue feels? And the interactions in general? Thanks.
> 
> See you in the end notes!
> 
> (Also as always, comment and let me know what you think. Drag me, if need be.)

Ella (Ellie?) Hargreeves is proud to say that she sucks at being quiet. Which is why these outings with Gramma Cara are easily the most boring things she has ever experienced in the five years she's been on this planet.

It's not that she doesn't love Gramma Cara, she does! But the woman has so many friends from that weird place she volunteers at that it's impossible to go anywhere in the city without "running into" old friends and having a "chat." And then that chat turns into an hour-long conversation that Ella can't even add to because it's all about boring adult stuff. 

She much prefers Mommy's company. Mommy doesn't have any stupid friends to distract her from more important things. Such as pushing Ella on the swing, playing hide and seek, playing pretty music for Ella to dance to, y’know, important stuff!

This stupid park doesn't even have a playset! It's so dumb! Ella's stuck swinging her little legs on the park bench, listening to Gramma Cara blather on and on and _on…_

So when she hears a loud _grumble_ from a nearby alley, no one has to twist her arm to investigate. 

What she finds is a skinny man dressed in funny clothes, slumped over and arguing with the thin air to his side. The topic of conversation seems to be his obvious hunger, because even if he loudly denies it, Ella had _heard_ his belly from a few feet away.

The man sees her and Ella freezes. Instead of trying to attack her like she expects, the man also seems to be frozen. He's staring at her with wide eyes. Hesitantly, he gives her a jaunty little wave. His hand has the word **HELLO** written on it. 

This is definitely _not_ boring. Ella smiles and gives a little wave back. The man still stares, but Ella has an idea. She rushes back to Gramma Cara, or more accurately, her bag, and holds a hand above it. She concentrates.

The man is having a discussion with no one.

"I didn't snort something in my sleep, right?" A pause. "Okay, good. Then that's just a weird coincidence."

Mommy and Gramma have started to try and teach her school stuff, and the first thing Ella had asked about was gravity. According to what Mommy said, (or what Mommy read from _Physics for Dummies,_) this should work. Hopefully. She's never had to actually _think_ about how she uses her powers before. She knows she can do this an easier way, but she feels like a spy from Aunt Allison's movies right now, and the other way (Floating the things she wants high into the air and then clumsily shifting their weight towards her,) could attract way more attention.

Her sparks crackle quietly and slowly begin to travel up her arm with her thoughts, trying to gently pull her target towards her. Gramma Cara once compared the sparks crawling up her arm to bugs under her skin, slowly making their way up to eat her eyeballs out of her face, so Ella feels a bit sick as she watches it. Mommy had been _super_ mad at Gramma for that one. The older woman had just laughed.

The entire bag shutters a bit, so Ella hastily stops and stares at her Gramma. Nothing. Whew.  
Ella crosses her arms and gives the bag a dirty look, eyebrows furrowed and her eyes assigning blame. The bag should feel her disappointment with its performance. She’s pretty sure the bag wilts under her gaze, but she might be biased.

The girl sighs and takes a deep breath, slightly shaking her arms out. She puts her hand out again, squeezing her eyes shut and willing the targets to listen to _her_, not the big dumb stupid earth. This time she tries to single out the individual items, not the entire bag. It’s difficult, but she has enough willpower to outlast the sun if she wanted to.

Slowly, her requested items come floating out of the bag and towards her, smoothly enough that it doesn’t alert Cara and her chattering friend. She keeps control until they're near enough for her to grab, and stops her intentional guiding. She nabs them from the air before they can start to orbit her, then smiles. Success!

The man has been talking the entire time.

"Of course it is, Ben! It can't be her. In case you forgot, our dear little sister is the same age as us! Well, me, anyway…" Another pause. "Oh, shut up. You can take it, you've got thick skin. Oh, no, wait…"

Ella returns, holding the bottom of her shirt up so she can carry all of her snacks in it. Namely, a banana, lots of granola bars, and two juice boxes. 

The man cuts himself off and whirls around to face her, even though she didn’t make any noise to alert him. He watches her approach with the same wide eyes as before. The man doesn't seem to move until she plops herself down criss-cross-apple-sauce across from him and dumps her haul into his lap. He stares at it blankly, before looking up at her. He gives her a questioning look. 

She shrugs. "I heard your tummy-monster rumbling." 

The man lets out a startled snort-giggle, casting a mirth filled look to the air above him. He bows dramatically as much as he can from his slumped position, waving a hand in front of his head at her. "Thank you, madame."

Ella giggles and takes a juice box and a granola bar from the pile while the man digs into the banana. Her mother is saying _Don't talk to strangers_ in her head, but she wants to talk to this interesting stranger, so she pretends she didn't hear it at all.

"Do you got a in-visin-ble friend?" She wonders out loud, thinking back to his weird behavior.

The man is still staring at her, but he seems to realize that she's not going away anytime soon. "I guess you could say that. His name is Ben." He points to the empty air above her and to her left- no, wait, backwards L, it’s her right side.

Ella waves to it. "Hello Mister Ben," She turns back to the crazy man covered in trash. "I used to have an ima- imagin- imaginary friend, but he was too stupid so I fired him. He was draggin' my name through the mud. I think he had a wife an’ kids an’ stuff, but I take my rep- reput- _reputation_ seriously."

The man is staring at her in an odd mix of awe, surprise, and faint confusion. "That's nice." He comments absently, "Ben says Hi back, by the way. He's not used to people talking to him." 

Ella frowns. "That's sad." 

He shrugs. "Personally, I think he's just a whiner."

This makes Ella giggle and the man looks surprised to find himself smiling back. Her giggle cuts off as he suddenly grabs her knee with an intensity that came out of nowhere. She freezes, wondering in fear if her Mommy was right after all. But when Ella looks down, there's a dirty thing on the ground that kinda looks like a shot from the doctor. The pokey side is dangerously close to where her knee was.

He carefully tosses it away from them with a grimace. "You don't wanna get poked with that." 

Ella scrunches up her nose, "I _hate_ shots."

That startles a laugh out of the man, "No, no no no, those aren't shots. Ben says to tell you that the shots from the doctor are good for you. He’s sitting down with us now, by the way. He’s joined the cool kid table."

"They don't _feel_ good for me, Mister Ben." Ella says in disgust to the thin air next to her, “You can’t sit at the cool kid table if you like shots.”

Trash guy is snorting through his suddenly hysterical laughter that would probably freak out a normal, stable adult, “Yeah, _Ben_, go sit at the nerd table! Y’know, for _nerds_ who like books and shit like you.”

Ella is waving a hand at him through her barely controllable giggles, either not noticing the swear word or laughing harder because of it, “Nuh-uh, I like books too! Don’t be mean, he can sit with us!”

The guy rolls his eyes dramatically in a way that uses his entire head, and it sets Ella off into another fit, “Ugh, _fine,_ if madame insists.” He then sticks his tongue out at the space next to them, and the 5-year-old is too lost in her laughter to notice that the man’s hazel eyes have melted somewhat, revealing a hidden softness. 

Ella takes a few moments to calm herself, listening as the man chuckles a bit himself, then she glances at the not-shot, "If that isn't a shot, what is it?"

"Huh? Oh. It's a needle. It's got… uh…yucky ..." The man trails off, looking to the empty air for help, "Poison. Yeah, it's got poison on it."

"Oh." Ella thinks that over for a moment, "Cool."

The man snorts. 

They sit there for a while, Ella munching down on her granola bar, him slowly eating his banana. He punches the straw through the other juice box and then starts to drink it with his pinky up, which draws a full, tongue-in-teeth smile from her. He smiles and laughs a little with her.

After a bit, the man starts to look increasingly confused and constipated, and he keeps glaring in the direction of Ben, his invisible friend. She wonders what they're arguing about, but she’s pretty sure that it’s rude to ask. 

After a long series of whispered arguments, the man caves, hissing _"okay, okay, fine,"_ under his breath.

He leans forward onto his knees. "You look a lot like someone I used to know a long time ago. What's your name?" 

"Ella," She answers around her food. Mommy always said not to talk with your mouth full, but she also said not to tell people their last name. So many stupid rules. She decides that one out of two (or three) isn't that bad, "But I think I like Ellie better. That's what my friends at gym call me. What do you think?"

The trash man looks sort of relieved for some reason. "I think Ellie is a solid name. Not too boring, not too weird. Though, nothing is too weird in my book. The weirder, the better, I say." 

This makes Ella smile, "What does Ben think?"

Surprise graces his features at the question, as if he did not expect her to actually believe him. His eyes soften even more into something that feels purely genuine, "He- uh," The man pauses, as if to listen, "He says he likes it too. It's pretty, is what he says, but he says Ella's a pretty name too. He's an indecisive bastard, this one." 

"Thank you, Mister Ben." Ella giggles at the air to her right. Then, slowly, a knowing, mischievous smile spreads across her face . "Isn't that a bad word?"

The man looks panicked, "Uh-"

A noise sounds from somewhere. Ella looks over her shoulder at Gramma Cara, who appears to be looking for her, "Aw man. I gotta go." 

The man nods in resignation (and maybe a little relief) without saying anything, and starts to push the food she brought him back toward her. She shakes her head, lies a small hand atop his dirty one to stop him, and then starts skipping backwards away.

"Bye-bye, Mister Trash Man!" She calls. The man is waving his other hand that has **GOODBYE** embedded on it while hissing something that sounds like _"Shut up, Ben"_ out of the corner of his mouth.

Both Vanya and Cara are confused as to why Ella is demanding to be called Ellie the minute she steps through the door later that day.

Ellie doesn’t speak of her mysterious Trash Man until a month later, when she gets sick. She revels in the feeling of having a secret all to herself, but eventually she’s forced to give it up. His warning about those needle things screams loudly in her mind until she finally can’t take it anymore. Mommy is sitting with her while she lays in her bed, and so she decides it’s now or never. 

“Mom-my,” she starts around her scratchy throat, and Mommy opens her mouth to tell her to stop, “I think I was poi- Poisoned.”

Mommy furrows her eyebrows with her mouth still open. Apparently, she wasn’t expecting that. She snaps it shut after a moment and looks bemused. “No, baby. You just have croup. I know it seems like you’re dying, but it’ll go away eventually.”

“Oh.” Ellie feels something unclench in her chest, “I thought I got yucky poison from the needles.”

“What?” _Anne of Green Gables_, the bedtime story for tonight, almost drops from fumbling hands. Ella looks up at the sound. Huh, Mommy looks alarmed.

“Oh, the nice trash man at the park said that the needles on the ground were icky with poison, so I shouldn’t touch ‘em” Ellie explains tiredly, somewhat content to let the exhaustion have control now.

“The… Trash man told you that? Like the garbage man on the garbage truck?” 

Ellie shakes her head. “Nah. He was co- covered in trash and his tummy monster was rumbling, so I gave him my snacks. He was funny, Mommy. He called me madame and he had cool words on his hands an-” Ellie starts to tell her Mom all about Mister Ben, but she’s interrupted by a fit of deep, barking coughs that makes her body hurt. Mommy rubs her back through it, and by the time it’s over, she forgets what she wants to say. Mommy’s quiet for a bit, just gently carding her fingers through Ellie’s stringy hair.

“Ella-” She starts, but Ellie cuts her off with a cough.

“El-_Ellie,_ Mommy. The trash man said he liked that name too, so that’s why I changed it.”

Mommy gives her an exasperated huff, a new understanding in her eyes, “_Ellie_, then.”

The girl gives her an approving nod, and Mommy continues with an eye roll.

“Try not to look for that man again. I think- Well, I could be wrong, but still- I think that was your Uncle Klaus that you met.”

Ellie perks up, a little color returning to her sweaty, flushed out face, “Re-” Another hard cough, “Really, Mommy?”

Mommy looks perturbed, “Yeah, baby.” She answers distractedly, lost in her thoughts. She snaps out of it after a moment and gives her daughter a hard gaze, “You know not to talk to strangers. You got lucky this time, but you could’ve been hurt, Ella.”

Ellie shrinks down and doesn’t even argue against the name, “I’m sorry, Mommy.”

Mommy sighs and caresses a cool hand against Ellie’s face. It feels so good that she almost closes her eyes in contentment. Mommy gives her a little smile. “It’s know you are, sweetheart. I know that the rules suck, but they’re there to keep us safe, to keep _you_ safe. You are my everything, silly girl. I need you to be safe.”

Ellie leans into her mother’s touch. “I know, Mommy. I’m super sorry. Super _duper_ sorry.”

Mommy laughs softly at her words. “I know, I forgive you. Just be more careful next time.” Mommy leans over and gives her a kiss on the forehead, then gently smoothes her blankets. “Goodnight, Baby. I love you.”

“Night Mommy.” Ellie replies. The lights turn off, and the door closes. Through the fog of sickness, Ellie’s mind runs rampant and reviews every single interaction she had with Trash Man- Her _Uncle_, she realizes with glee. The odd man covered in trash is her _family._

* * *

Ella ("_Ellie_, Mommy." Her daughter always corrects, but Vanya can’t help but go back and forth) turns 6 and Vanya thinks she finally might be getting used to this. They have a routine now.

Every day they start their morning by making breakfast. Vanya usually just has cereal, but she only accepts the best for her daughter, so she makes a healthy breakfast consisting of various things. Sometimes it's eggs (scrambled) with fruit and bacon. Sometimes there's sausage involved. They mix and match breakfast foods, but Vanya always makes sure Ellie gets enough. (Ella never has oatmeal. Vanya refuses to let it cross the property line.) Said girl floats above her shoulder if she's awake, wanting to help and learn. Then it's medicine time, Vanya takes her pill while Ellie takes gummy vitamins. 

After breakfast, Ella happily helps clear the table and then (literally) flies down the hall to her room to choose her outfit for the day. Right now she's going through a neon sparkle phase, so her chosen fashion is always garish and usually forces Vanya to squint her eyes as she brushes through her babbling daughter's hair. (Today Vanya is gifted with the mental image that comes with her daughter's question: _Don't horses technically walk on their toenails?_ The brush pauses as Vanya thinks about it in muted horror.)

Ellie has insisted on keeping her hair long, so it always takes a bit to brush out all the tangles that have somehow formed all the way down to the ends of her hair, which are in the middle of her back. Ella hums as she chooses how she wants her hair styled. (Today it's a sparkly red hairband with a flower on top. Ellie doesn't have bangs for it to push back, because that's another thing Vanya has refused.) When Ella runs off, to probably do something other than putting her shoes on like she was asked, Vanya halfheartedly runs the brush through her own bland, mousy hair and ties it up as usual. She’s glad that Ella did not inherit her boring hair, but instead has thick, dark chocolate waves that are comparable to the ocean’s. It’s one of the few things that are different between the two. She glances at the dry toothbrush in its holder and sighs before calling Ellie back.

Then the rest of their day begins. Most days, excluding special ones where they go to the library or rehearsal or somewhere else fun, they stay home. Ella, of course, is able to keep herself busy with her powers, but when she gets tired of it, she spends time with her mom. Vanya has been trying to teach her daughter to play the violin for years, (It’s the only thing she can really give her) so this time in the mornings is when they usually practice together. That is, if Ellie doesn’t distract herself with dancing in the air, or drawing, or flipping, or a particular speck on the wall instead. The girl is pretty good, but Vanya just _knows_ she would be great if she paid more attention and applied herself. She doesn’t push it, though. Even if Ella just floats aimlessly through the air of the room, spending the morning with her daughter is enough for her to feel the warmth in her chest.

Today is a special day, though. Vanya's orchestra has moved the rehearsals to earlier in the day this year, so they pack up their stuff and head out. Ellie gets to sit in the audience and listen as the music plays. She enjoys it, but she likes to think that she can hear her Mommy above everyone else. It's always a struggle to control the urge to let her body sway along with the music in the air, like she does at home.

Instead, she settles for dancing along a little in her seat, always in the second row so she can hide what she's doing with her hands. 

Ellie (and it is Ell_ie_ now, not Ella, which she has to remind Mommy _constantly_,) remembers the pinky promise she made to her mother so long ago, and she has been (mostly) good, she has been! But they go out more than they used to, and she gets sort of antsy when she doesn't use her powers for a long time. It's like when she has to sit still for a while, the energy builds inside her until it's uncomfortable. So Ellie brings her backpack (Gramma Cara bought it for her, to give her the "full school experience." It's pink and purple and it sparkles, so it's good enough for her) to her Mommy's rehearsals, filled with multicolored strings. 

Mommy always says that she's perfect just the way she is, but Ellie wants to be _better._ She wants to master this power she's been given, because she sometimes gets scared that it'll be taken away if she doesn't. She knows that it's okay not to have a power. Mommy doesn't have one and she still creates beautiful music, and Ellie loves her all the same. But she also loves making things around the house dance along with Mommy's songs, she loves being able to help reach things, and she loves feeling so free every time she flies through the air.

(Another part of her, that she's scared of, loves the fact that she could crush anything and anyone she wanted into the earth with the sheer force of her will. She could puncture their lungs using the very air they breathe. She knows this, and it scares her, so she tries her best to ignore it.)

So Ellie has slowly started taking the things she has mastered without her powers to the air. That's what she does behind the chairs of the theater- she tries to control the strings enough to braid them tightly into a bracelet. At home, she tries to use her markers to draw and write on a floating paper. She had even tried to play the violin hands free, but Mommy had drawn the line there. Neither endeavors have been doing too well- her weight shifts are too big and sudden to manage anything but clumsy, jerky movements in the air. It feels like the slightest movement she makes with her hands is multiplied by 100 when she uses her powers. It makes precision frustrating and downright near-impossible. But Ella doesn’t let that slow her down, she just growls frustratedly in the back of her throat and tries again.

Ellie keeps trying until the music stops. She doesn't want to get caught by Mommy. Her extra efforts have been noticed around the house without her having to say a word. She's rewarded with a gentle hair caress, a proud smile, or a soft "Good job, baby." Ellie always lights up at the quiet praise, but she avoids her mom's eyes. They always seem to know exactly why she's doing this, as if they can see into her soul.

((Vanya knows. She's remembering a brother long lost to time.))

After rehearsal, they walk to gym class for practice. On days she doesn’t have a rehearsal but Ella has practice, they walk straight from the apartment to gym, where Gramma Cara is newly off work and waiting. Gramma Cara always comes to watch her class, even if Ellie isn't doing anything special. It makes the little girl feel so happy in her heart and she hopes she conveys that with the excited hug she gives the woman every day. 

Sometimes, on special days when Mommy has a certain look in her eyes, the three of them go to Griddy's afterwards. Ellie loves the place, even if Gramma Cara says it's an old dump. Mommy always has an amused air about her when Ellie scolds her Gramma for being so mean. Today doesn’t seem to be that type of day, but Ella had expected that. Rehearsal and gym in the same day usually wears down on her mother’s tolerance for other people.

On the days she has gym, like today, the three of them take the bus to Gramma's tiny little house. The house isn't much on the outside and seems to be perpetually falling apart. That's okay, because it's the inside that matters. The furniture within doesn't feel like it was picked out with anything other than necessity in mind, but there are additions that have been added over the years.

The lumpy couch has nice, fluffy pillows that don't match at all, which Ella always beelines to hug when they first enter the house. The end tables hold various mis-matched lamps that give off a warm light, purchased when Cara had dragged her girls out shopping and they both liked a different lamp. The dining table has two chairs that match and one that Ella picked out to be hers from a flea market a year or so ago. The chair is a few shades too pale and has lots of scuff marks and scratches around the flowers that are carved into the wood. 

The most important thing is the fact that the only decorations to be seen are picture frames. They're everywhere, completely covering the walls and almost making the entables useless. They hold a variety of things, from a few faded old pictures of two young girls, to pictures of a smiling young boy with an oxygen tube under his nostrils and familiar dark green eyes. He has a mop of dirty blond hair on his head and is smiling so hard it looks to be painful in every picture.

The main attraction, however, is Ella. There's pictures of her as a baby, sometimes being held by Vanya or Cara or both, and then there's more recent ones scattered along, sometimes starring the two women. There's a few with just the two friends in it, but they're easily engulfed by the others. The house is basically a physical timeline of the girl’s life. Even a few of Ella's drawings made it in, but the one that seems to get the star spot is one that depicts a person with a dark gray scribble on their head, holding their arm up to hold the hand of a smaller figure that's above them, with green marker scribbled around the smaller body. _Luv Gram Cura_ is horribly misspelled above them.

Ellie eats lunch, which is healthy despite the girl’s whining for a PB&M sandwich, and has lessons. Vanya had debated sending her daughter to regular school, but between the girl's powers and Vanya's crippling separation anxiety, she opted to do homeschooling instead. Cara helps at first, and then ends up as a better teacher than Vanya could ever be, which is why they start coming to her house in the end. Vanya still stays with them if she doesn't have a violin lesson to go to, (She will never admit to sometimes cancelling them so she can stay with her daughter) but mostly just helps if her girl needs emotional support. Ellie is enthusiastic to be learning with her favorite people, even when the subjects seem to bore her. 

"I reckon I missed my calling." Cara jokes later over a glass of wine. Vanya scoffs and tells her she's glad, because then her daughter wouldn't have the best teacher. It makes Cara snort-giggle while taking another sip.

On days they don't have gym, Ellie comes home and does it anyway. She takes to the air and practices her routine without the added advantage of the ground. Vanya usually tries to do some work while she does, like making notes for her students, but she often ends up admiring her daughter's weightless dance. 

Ellie's control and weight shifting in the air has evolved to the point that the girl barely has to think about it anymore. The tiny gymnast is able to swing around bars that aren't there, hop higher into the air like there's an invisible platform, and balance on a beam that only exists in her mind. Even when she stumbles, her mind seems to subconsciously calculate the amount of weight needed to be shifted to correct herself and does it in a split second with faintly glowing hands. The process is so second-nature that Vanya only worries that Ellie will forget about the furniture under her and smack her head while doing tumbles and flips in the air. Again.

Cara always comes back home with them, for the sole purpose of being Ella’s cheerleader.

They have free time again for the rest of the day. It’s spent with each other. Either Vanya drags Ellie into practicing her violin skills to make up for a distracted morning, or Ellie drags Vanya into playing pretend with her, babbling about nothing in particular all the while. Vanya always does it, even when she's feeling so bland and empty that you couldn't get her to feel anything if you tried. Cara’s there, barring a work emergency, their faithful audience and dedicated third playtime partner. Eventually, it's time for bed. 

Bathtime doesn't inspire such great defiance as it used to, and Vanya is so grateful. Trying to bathe an angry toddler who can float away is always messy. She lets Ellie choose which shampoo to use (she's partial to the watermelon scent, but can be persuaded to use green apple to mix things up. She claims coconut is outlawed from her bathtub.) and scrubs her hair while listening to her talk endlessly.

When she tucks her in to bed (after saying goodnight to Uncle Luther, of course, but quieter than the first time,) Vanya is cajoled into telling a story about her siblings. The Umbrella Academy is one of Ella's favorite things to learn about. Unfortunately, it's not Vanya's favorite thing to talk about. Instead of telling stories about their heroic deeds, Vanya tells her the things that she got to witness. Stories like how Uncle Klaus broke his jaw by walking down the stairs in high heels, or how Uncle Diego pranked Aunt Allison by cutting all her uniforms too short with his knives until she "asked him nicely" to stop.

(She rumored him into wearing one of said uniforms down to breakfast.)

That last story had started a strange and worrying fixation on knives in Ella’s little brain for a while.

The stories almost always have Ella babbling at an even higher velocity instead of going to sleep like she should be. Vanya still tells them because her daughter has really unfair puppy eyes. 

Eventually, Ellie gets to sleep. Vanya drags herself to the living room where Cara is waiting, usually with some wine and always with support. She flops into her favorite cushy chair, holding her hand out for a glass. She gets one and sips on it while grumbling at a smirking Cara for being the reason for her alcoholism. The women talk and listen to each other until it’s time for Cara to leave and for Vanya to pass out on her bed. Their routine starts anew.

But over the next week, Vanya starts to notice a change. 

Ella doesn't literally hover over her shoulder at breakfast, but instead waits quietly at the table. She doesn't talk as much as Vanya brushes her hair, and shrugs when asked how she wants it done that day. Her clothes are less eye watering and more normal. If she even plays the violin instead of hiding in her room, she plays it sullenly, distracted, but not in the usual way. Vanya doesn't see her bouncing to the music at rehearsal, or even moving at all, just staring down at her lap with her hair covering her face. Her lessons are done with the same half-hearted attitude as the violin. She doesn't even skip on her way to gym and only gives a little pat to Cara on her way in. The woman furrows her eyebrows and looks to Vanya, who can only shrug.

There is one thing she drops the sullen attitude for, but Vanya isn’t sure it’s a good thing. When she practices her gym routine at home, she does so with furious vigor and makes the things around her float, but Vanya doesn't think it's on purpose. She can see the sparks on her hands whizzing by at a high velocity, like a lightning strike in a tornado. Ella doesn't stop flipping and spinning and floating until her nose is bleeding lightly and she feels lightheaded. Vanya thinks it might have to do with using two powers at once, or at least in quick succession, but she’s too concerned to ponder on it.

The quiet girl eats her lunch and hides in her room while Vanya teaches a student. Cara leaves as the student arrives with a deeply concerned look towards both the room and Vanya. She just nods at her friend, telling her without words that she knows something’s up. When Vanya can do so without being rude, she peeks down the hallway and sees a suspicious light coming from under Ellie’s door.

The girl doesn't come out til bathtime and even then she only points at the shampoo she wants. She looks deathly pale and dazed, and Vanya has to repeat questions to get an answer. There’s a telling stain of faint red on the skin beneath her nose that Vanya raises an eyebrow at, but she doesn’t ask.

When Vanya tucks her girl in at bedtime, there are no requests for a story, no exaggerated waving to the moon, just a quiet "g'night mommy." Followed by rolling onto her side. As she flips the lights off, Vanya spots some crayons sticking out from under the bed that look like they've encountered a hydraulic press. 

Her kid's unusual eerie silence makes her ears ring, and she finally cracks after a few days of watching the changes slowly unfold. Cara has been called to the women's shelter she volunteers at because of an emergency with one of the residents, and Vanya is feeling her absence more than ever. She knows Cara would probably be better at this, but she has to do something, _now._ They're sitting down for lunch, and Ellie is sullenly picking at her food. 

"Do you want a Fluffer-Nutter?" Vanya asks hopefully, only to deflate at the tiny head shake she gets in response. Then the silence is back. Vanya's not sure how she ever survived in this suffocating silence before Ella came along. She decides to throw a Hail Mary. 

"How about we go to Griddy's? With Gramma Cara?" Ella _loves_ that place, so much so that Vanya's willing to face the ghosts of her past to make her daughter smile again. And Cara always helps. She won't say no to this, surely.

Ella shakes her little head again, "No, thank you."

Alright, that does it.

"Hey," Vanya starts, getting up to kneel in front of her girl, "What's wrong? There's been something bothering you for a while, I can tell." 

Ella seems to pale even further from her already worrying shade. Vanya was forced to pull her out of the air today after noticing the blood pouring out of her nose. She's kicking herself for waiting this long to say something. Her child looks positively _gray._

She places a hand on her cheek, "Whatever it is, you can tell Mommy, okay? I promise I won't be mad."

Ella opens her mouth, then closes it. She seems to think for a while, before quietly starting to speak, "M-Morgan. At Gym. She didn't like how I did t-the r- ru- ruti-" Ella scrunches her face up, "the moves. She said I was t- too g- good. I only used my p- powers a little bit, I promise! I j-just wanted to ma-master the m-move and I n-needed an extra push." 

Vanya nods gently, making a note to amend where Ella could use her powers now that she has more control, "Did you think I would be mad? Is that what's bothering you?"

Ella shakes her head, but then tilts it in acknowledgement. "Well, yeah, but th-that's not it. M-Morgan said s-somethin’ that really h-hurt my f-feelings, and now non-none of my w-words will co-come out right w-when I th-think about wh-what she s-said, an’ I can’t st-stop th-_thinking_ ‘bout it. I tr-tried a b-bunch but I c-can only say l-little things without s-sounding so st-_stupid…._"

Vanya's heart is hurting, being assaulted with both the present and memories past. She tries to recall all the research she had read on stutters as a child, but she can’t seem to remember a single thing. She tucks her daughter’s hair behind her ear instead of panicking, "You don't sound stupid, Baby. What did Morgan say?" 

Ella starts to tear up. "Sh-she called me a f- f- fr- frr-" a frustrated growl rips from her throat, her hands balling into fists, triggering that familiar minty-pale-green that looks so much like Five’s jumps and then suddenly the chair she's sitting on is creaking, "A- a _freak!_" Fat tears start rolling down her cheeks. She lets go of her frustration and the power around her fists sputters out. She lets herself fall against her mother.

Ice freezes in Vanya's chest, stopping her breath. She holds her crying child, who's saying _"she's right, she's right!"_ While sobbing. Vanya's sure she's repeating _no, baby,_ at her but she can't hear it because of the ringing in her ears and the ice trickle down her spine. The warmth from holding her daughter doesn't melt the ice this time. Strangely, it seems to be feeding it, making it stronger. Vanya's left with a mix of molten steel and freezing ice in her veins.

Vanya decides that she will not be telling her therapist about her sudden dire need to strangle someone else's child. 

"Listen to me." Vanya is thrown back into action purely because of the urgency of her next statement. Her voice is hard, firm, stronger than she can ever remember it being. She holds her daughter away from her so she can look into her teary eyes, "You are _not_ a freak. No, don't shake your head, you're not. You're not a freak, Ella, you're _special._"

Her daughter is listening but looks disbelieving. Vanya continues, "You're special, and even though she doesn't know how much, Morgan knows you are. She's jealous because she's not as special as you, so she's trying to make you feel bad for just being who you are. _You can't let her._ Don't let her make you feel bad for something you can't help, baby. You're _not_ a freak."

Vanya doesn't mention that she used to be Morgan. She starts to realize she still _is_ to an extent, because of that stupid book. Every time she thinks she's over her siblings and that part of her life, it comes crashing back in. Instead of thinking about it, she holds her crying child close. 

She is _seething_ when she tells Cara about it later. The woman had entered the apartment to see Vanya quietly waiting, a half-full tumbler of amber liquid in her hand. Vanya rants and rants and rants, refills her drink, and then rants and rants and rants until she can't even form words anymore. She doesn’t even know whether to blame the rage or her drink. 

Even though Cara doesn't say anything, just listens, she can see the fire burning in her friend's eyes over her wine glass. Vanya starts to take a breath, gulps down the rest of her second glass of rum, and turns to close the window. She's faintly surprised to see it already closed, even though she's sure she felt a draft strong enough to rattle the plates on the drying rack. She shrugs and flops into her favorite cushy brown chair, completely drained. 

Cara sips her wine. There’s a silence, and then: "Kids can be nasty little bastards."

Vanya groans in agreement from behind her hands, which are on her face. She’s pretty sure she forgot her nighttime pill, but fuck it. She’s mad.

Cara hums. "Unfortunately, I don't know what else you can do besides let the teacher know." 

Vanya huffs and removes her hands to glare at the ceiling as if it has personally wronged her. There are scribbles up there from a few years ago. They usually make her grin, but now it just stirs the fiery ice in her gut once more. "The little shit probably won't get more than a slap on the wrist. But with words. Which she'll probably ignore. Fuck."

Cara makes a noise that better not be amused. "Well, I suppose we could storm into the class and beat her backside with your book-"

"Oh, Fuck off." Vanya leans forward, her rosy cheeks lessening the effect of her glare. She ignores Cara’s snort, "I just don't want her to feel that way, y'know? Like a- like a- _Different_. I know what that feels like, y'know? I know she's sad now, but soon she'll be angry at the world like I was an' I can't do anything to stop it."

Cara sips her wine, all calm and stupid and wise, "All you can do is be here and help her get her emotions out."

"Yeah, but- fucking _how?_" Vanya splutters, looking at Cara as if she had just told a person in a wheelchair to get up and walk, "I haven't even done that for myself, and when I tried, I- I-"

"Published a book telling the world about how your siblings are freaks?"

"I- Oh- Oh, _Fuck you._ Now m'guilty" Vanya groans, glaring harder at Cara and her little shit-eating grin, she knows what she did- "And- an’, my baby's stuttering, not like she used’ta, like a kid, but like- like fuckin' _Diego._ We didn't even know how to help him back then, how am I s'posed to fix this? What if it’s permanent? How is she s’posed to babble my fuckin’ ears off if she can’t say the words? _Ugh._"

"I don't think you can fix it right now, but you can cheer her up. Do something special. Speaking of Diego…" Cara trails off. It takes Vanya a few sluggish moments to connect the dots.

"_No._" She says as firmly as she can while drunk, "No, no, no, no. No no. Nope."

"Oh, c'mon, Vanya! You don't even have to go, she can go with me!" Cara pleads, somewhat like a child. Because she is one, Vanya remarks grumpily. She might be 56, but inside? Actual whiny baby.

"No ma'am," Vanya shakes her head goofily, making her vision swim, "You will not take my poor innocent daughter to watch my brother beat the shit out of people. It'll traumatize her."

"It'll be fun, you party pooper." Cara tells her with an exaggerated frown, "It might even help her get this so-called anger out. Behind those big brown eyes is a thirst for blood, I tell you."

"Jesus Christ," Vanya pours herself another glass, "Don't say shit like that."

"You're deflecting because you know I'm right." Cara says matter-of-factly, finishing off her second glass of wine and immediately pouring another with Vanya.

"No, I'm deflecting because you're insane." Vanya snips back, trying very hard not to giggle at Cara as the woman dramatically mocks offence. She purses her lips to hold back a smile.

"It'll cheer her up." Cara presses, "She's wanted to meet him ever since she found out how close he is. Letting her _see_ him once isn't gonna end the world, you paranoid bitch." 

"Fuck you, Old ass-" Vanya says with no bite. She takes a gulp of her drink, then slurs out: "I said it once and I'll say it again: _Nooooooooooooo-_"

They end up going. 

Cara stays the night and then makes breakfast for Ellie and a very hungover Vanya. They sit and eat and it's nice until-

"Hey Ellie-Belly." 

Vanya snaps up her head, almost dropping her pill from in front of her mouth. Cara glances at her from where she's now looking at the 6 year old. Vanya's hungover- like _really_ hungover- but that does nothing to dull the razor sharp look she gives the other woman. _Don't you dare-_

A shit-eating smile. "How would you like to go see your Uncle Diego fight?"

Traitor. See if Vanya ever drinks with her again.

Ella lights up for the first time in days and turns those damn puppy eyes towards her mother. 

Goddamnit. She throws back her pill, as if that will stop the effect of the adorable brown eyes burning a hole into the side of her head.

She gives in, of course, but not before explaining that they were just going to _see_ Uncle Diego, not talk to him or get his attention. Ella says she understands, but she’s practically vibrating with excitement and accidentally letting herself float a bit above her seat. 

Vanya isn't convinced that she does understand, but just sighs as her daughter flies past her so fast that her hair goes _whoosh._ She spits the strands out of her mouth and sips her coffee.

It's too damn early for this.

Cara is smiling and Vanya doesn't like that so she throws a bit of her waffle at the woman. Cara remains unbothered.

Vanya insists on going, but she wears dark clothes with a hoodie, the strings pulled tight so her face is barely visible, and sunglasses. Incognito mode, bitch. The sudden thought makes her roll her eyes at herself, but it’s sort of accurate.

Is she dramatic? Yes. Is she paranoid? Yep. Is she being petty? Oh, absolutely. She will not go down without kicking and screaming. She hopes that the glare she sends Cara as Ellie picks out a pair of sunglasses conveys this. By the look of her answering cheery smile, she knows exactly what she's doing. Vanya maturely sticks her tongue out at her, and is infuriated when that only makes the woman’s smile grow.

That night, the girls all head down to Al's looking to the world like a weird family with two blind daughters. They get a few odd looks from the men around them as the three settle in the back of the room. Vanya sticks her chin up at them and they hurriedly mind their own damn business. Ellie excitedly pretends to climb up onto Cara's shoulders, but in reality makes herself weightless with Cara holding her legs down so she won't float away. 

Vanya sulks.

When Diego is announced, Ella is almost frothing at the mouth with visible anticipation, and Vanya pops a pill with shaking fingers. He comes out, and the little girl seems to freeze. Vanya's worried for a second, but then the cheap, plastic sunglasses slip down her nose (they're purple circles with sparkles) and Vanya can see the awe and genuine emotion swimming around in those big doe-eyes. Diego is showing off to the crowd, and Ellie is taking in his features like a drowning man gasping for air.

Something is crawling up Vanya's throat like a glob of mucus. Her fingers twitch to take another pill when she figures out it's guilt. She suddenly wants to cry, because she’s doing the right thing, right? Keeping her daughter away from her family, keeping her safe? Isolating her? Oh God, is she a bad mo-

The fight starts and Vanya's emotions are lost in the roar of the crowd. Watching her brother get punched makes her flinch and it feels strangely vindicating to watch him give it back twice as hard. The best part of the whole show is not in the ring, but next to her on her best friend’s shoulders.

It's like Ella has been resurrected from the dead. She screams along with the crowd, using her entire body to yell at Diego to _GET HIM! BEAT HIM UP!_ She lunges in so hard when Diego gets badly hit that she almost falls off Cara's shoulders. It doesn't slow her down. Vanya is a little scared because she can see the thirst for blood that Cara was talking about.

Soon, it's the eighth round and Diego is still in. Vanya's anxiety hasn't shut up one bit since she got within a mile of her brother, but this is the most Ella has expressed in weeks. She's about to decide that it's worth it, that maybe she was wrong, when Diego gets hit with a punch that sends him flying around and looking in their direction. 

Vanya's heart rate spikes and she shrinks in on herself, falling back on her childhood and trying to make herself as invisible as possible. She has never felt this much pure fear rush into her at once. She’s gonna throw up, there’s something in her throat. It might be her heart.

Ella, on the other hand, has no such qualms and _waves._

"G-GET 'IM, UNCLE DIEGO!" 

Vanya's pretty sure this is what sledgehammer to the chest feels like. All the air rushes out of her lungs, and then her insides are covered in ice, and she can’t breathe in again.

Diego narrows his eyes and tilts his head, looking like he's trying to decide whether that was real or the concussion. His eyes find an eager Ella, and widen with bewildered recognition. The man behind him takes advantage of the distraction and slams his head into his knee. 

K.O.

Vanya hurries them out of there before he can come to, glaring angrily at a sheepish Cara all the way. She knew this was a bad idea, she was right to keep away. She tells the remaining self-doubt in her head to fuck-off, because she can’t deal with this right now.

Ellie realizes her mistake as soon as they get to the sidewalk, and interrupts her own energized chatter to apologize profusely. Vanya sighs, and tells her it's okay, but she has to be more careful, once again. The little girl nods shamefully, but that doesn’t last long. She takes the hands of the two women who refuse to look at each other and swings herself forward between them, covering the tense silence with her babbling that lasts all the way home, with only a few stutters here and there.

(Diego asks around after he wakes up. All he gets is vague descriptions of the three, but he can't let go of this feeling in his gut. It's odd for a little girl to be at a boxing match at all, but for her to call him _uncle_ while looking like a ghost of his past-

He tries really hard to shake the feeling. He’s too pissed at his sister to even try and investigate. The feeling doesn’t listen to his reasoning, and rudely stays put.)

That night, after getting an exhausted 6-year old to bed, Vanya enters her living room to find her friend down on one knee on the carpet, bowing to her and holding out an empty wine glass above her head. Vanya crosses her arms and raises an eyebrow.

“All hail Queen Vanya,” Cara starts in an exaggerated British accent, “She is always right and has never done anything wrong in her life, ever. Please, my liege, accept this glass as a symbol of my loyalty to you, which will never fail again.”

Vanya does a sort of huff-snort of amusement under her breath and takes the glass on her way towards her chair, “Damn straight, you backstabbing wench.”

Cara raises her head, a glint of mischief in her eyes, and flops onto the couch at the same time as Vanya falls into her chair. The previously mentioned Queen quietly sets the glass on the coffee table and leans back into her chair with a sigh. The doubt of her parenting choices is back and more alive than ever inside her mind. She doesn’t know what to do about it. She would normally just tell-

She flicks her brown eyes to Cara’s green, only to find the other woman already looking at her. They stare at each other, and there’s a loaded silence. Then Cara breaks it:

“I’m sorry it ended badly, but I’m still glad we went. You never said your brother was hot.”

Vanya’s mind immediately abandons every active thought besides that mental image and the word _EW._

Her face screws up in confused disgust, “_Ugh,_ Cara, what the _hell?_”

Cara chuckles at her friend’s discomfort, “I’m just saying, I felt 20 years younger when I saw that beautiful slice of Latin decadence. _Mmmm._”

Vanya slams her hands to her ears and makes vomiting sounds over the older woman’s laughter. After a few moments of justified revulsion, she replies, “I’m sorry, but I don’t think he dates anyone who lived through the Great Depression.”

“Ooo,” Cara sings, grinning at the sass, “The Great Depression, is that what we’re calling your childhood now?”

She gets a pillow to the face, and after a few more increasingly ridiculous insults, both women end up in a pile of giggles and snickers. They both know that all is forgiven now. 

The next time Ella goes to gym, she does so headstrong with a certain determination in her eyes that only spells out disaster. Vanya snorts at it, but she’s filled with a particular kind of dread that she is very familiar with by now.

((She's reminded of Luther.))

Ella confronts Morgan right before the class is set to start, walking up to her bully with her old confidence firmly reinstated within her. Vanya watches as the little girl scoffs at her daughter, which sparks a rage within her girl’s eyes instead of shutting her down. She yells something, but Morgan just rolls her eyes and goes to push her away-

Only for Ella to dodge in a practised move and punch her, _hard,_ in the nose. 

"Oh shit," Vanya swears as she watches blood pour out of little Morgan's nose. She gets up, ignoring the twisted pleasure she gets at the sight.

“My Uncle Diego taught me that, stupid!” Ellie shrieks at her downed opponent in anger, hiding her glowing fists behind her back while she tries to get it under control. No one notices the balance beam cracking ominously under an invisible weight, because everyone’s attention is on the girls.

Vanya clenches her fists and sets out to deal with upset parents and coaches, but not before hissing to Cara, "This is _your_ fault."

Cara just nods in awe with a big, dumb grin on her face.

Ella ends up suspended for two weeks from class for almost breaking Morgan's nose. Vanya has a long talk with her about how violence should only be used when your life is in danger or if the other person agrees. Ellie argues and pouts the entire time, but doesn't do it again.

(Vanya signs them both up for self defense classes soon after. She tells Cara it's just in case, but in reality it's because if you want to break someone's nose, you should really _break it-_)

Vanya doesn't argue as much as she should when Cara buys them all ice cream that afternoon.

* * *

It's just a week or two after Ellie's 7th birthday when she accompanies Mommy to the theater to practice after hours. She loves it, because she's free to dance and flounce through the air as the vibrations wash over her. She has to quickly land on an upper platform when she spots the janitor coming in, and her hands glow a bright pale green as she gets a rush of adrenaline due to just barely making the landing. She releases the feeling of pressure in her palms, and the glow fades while a nearby chair wobbles. 

There’s no noise of packing up on the stage, the sole violinist watching her reckless daughter with poorly veiled worry. Ellie meets Mommy's eyes from above, and smiles cheekily. Mommy sighs in fond exasperation, shakes her head, and begins to pack up.

On the way back home, they have an argument. It’s about the same thing the last five have been about. Ellie is quite bored of the subject, but Mommy doesn’t seem to agree.

“I mean, at this rate, I’ll come home to you jumping off the roof!” She cries out, throwing her hands up to express just how exasperated she is.

“Nuh-uh! I would never do the roof jump, it’s too exposed, people would see me.” Ellie replies logically, ignoring the way Mommy’s veins jump out of her head, “But Gramma said she might drive me out to a mountain to jump if I wanted. Can you imagine that?!”

“She _what?_” Mommy’s eyes are trying to escape her skull. Ellie starts to repeat herself, but Mommy just flaps her hand at her, “No, I heard what you said. I’m going to kick her ass, she shouldn’t be helping you become an adrenaline junkie!”

“Bad word, Mommy,” Ellie chides absently before processing the rest of the sentence, “I’m not an adrenaline junkie!”

“Yuh-uh.” a quiet yet confident disagreement, somewhat childish but whatever.

“Nuh-uh!” a shriek of indignance, way louder than necessary.

“Well, what else do you call someone who jumps off high places and barely catches themselves because it “makes their brain feel good?”” Mommy asks, using air-quotes and a familiar tone, one that says that she doesn’t actually want you to answer because she knows the right answer already. Her eyes look to her daughter in a deadpan stare, and Ellie bristles.

“Someone who is testing their powers!” She cries, throwing her arms up in a mirror of her mother, “And I only said that once, Mommy, you can’t use that every time we- _oof!_”

She crashes into Mommy’s back and goes stumbling back on the sidewalk. She thinks she must have not been paying attention, after all she was ranting and that _The Phantom of the Opera_ song is still ringing in her ears, but Mommy has stopped dead in front of a TV shop and hasn't moved since. There’s none of the sarcasm and fond irritation from their argument on her face. Her features have gone slack and her eyes are blank with some sort of slowly dawning emotion. It doesn't even look like she's breathing.

"Mommy?" Ellie asks, worried. Her mother turns to her and Ellie is even more worried to see that there are tears in her eyes. Her eyebrows furrow in concern. Her mother is looking straight through her and it’s unsettling enough for a knot of fear to develop tightly in her chest.

“M-Mommy?” Ella asks again, softer because of the tears she’s struggling to hold back. Her hands are shaking as she tries to reach out. Her mother blinks, and a tear goes down her cheek. She meets Ellie’s eyes.

Mommy grabs her with a sob. It startles her, but she lets out a breath she didn’t know she was holding at the movement. Her mother holds Ellie so tight against her that air might be a problem. 

"It's _safe._" Mommy chokes out, and then she's sobbing against her daughter in relief. 

(Vanya feels like she can finally _breathe._)

Ellie's confused, but she puts her arms around Mommy anyway, because this is scaring her and she needs the comfort. Her mother is stroking her hair, grabbing at her head, doing anything to get the girl closer against her. Ella’s stomach is a mess of upset confusion, and she holds back more tears. She doesn’t want to freak out. She turns her head the other direction against the fabric of her mom's jacket, sees the window front and then--

**Billionaire Reginald Hargreeves found Dead.**

Her eyes widen and the tears burst through the pathetic dam holding them back. She’s sobbing too now, the fear and confusion and many more emotions she can’t identify all clogging her airway and choking her. Her mom is crying and she’s just _scared._

She doesn’t know what this means for her future but for right now, in the rain, she clings to the one thing she knows. Ella holds her mother tight, holds her close.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We in canon boys. 
> 
> Alright I was very nervous to post this, but I wanted to do it so I could stop procrastinating Chapter 4. Age 6 is what I'm nervous about, is it too confusing to read?? Also, I have no clue about how stutters work, but I wanted to put that in there to shake things up a bit from our normal, overly confident Ella.
> 
> Is the name change confusing? I just felt like a 5 year old wouldn't like such a classy name, I guess. 
> 
> Also, I'm 18, and I know nothing about how alcohol works. I'm going to say that Vanya doesn't drink anything other than wine that often.
> 
> PLEASE GIVE ME YOUR OPINIONS, CRITICISM, AND OVERALL FANGIRLING IN THE COMMENTS, PRETTY PLEASE!! Your comments keep me going and I'm kinda stuck with the next chapter. Combining your work with canon is really difficult!
> 
> Don't expect an update for at least a week or more, I have to write chapter 4 from scratch, and I'm a perfectionist, so it'll be a while til I'm ready to show you all. But PLEASE let me know what you think, what did you notice, what was your favorite part? It will really help me to see my work from your eyes, because I've read over this at least 50 times.
> 
> See you next time!


	4. Riding into Battle (With your Heart on your Sleeve)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vanya prepares for the day she has dreaded for the past seven years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ....Hi guys. Sorry for the wait. This chapter isn't the one you've been waiting for, but I wanted to update and my mother told me that if I kept writing I wouldn't update for months, so yeah. I had a hard time starting this and I got stuck when trying to write the reactions, so sorry if it's a bit shorter than usual. Not much plot, but honestly I'm happy that I even got this out.
> 
> Also! Tiny little announcement: I've created a Tumblr especially for this fic and reblogging Umbrella Academy stuff. Follow ellagracehargreeves on Tumblr if you want updates on this fic/ me complaining about writing. 
> 
> Leave a comment, tell me what you think! Some of this chapter was actually inspired by the comments I got last time!
> 
> See you in the end notes!

They eventually walk back to the apartment, drenched and shaking, but not entirely from the rain. Vanya just sort of drops to the couch and stares. She doesn’t know what to do. 

Of course, this is when the sound of keys being turned reaches her ears. Ella is already turning herself around to face the door, reaching the obvious conclusion of who it is before Vanya’s wrung out brain can catch up. The door opens a fraction, and then:

BANG!

Vanya’s entire body jolts as the door is slammed into the wall from the force of an enthusiastic kick. There stands Cara, her straight gray hair in disarray under a paper party hat. Streamers are wrapped around her shoulders and chest like some sort of rainbow mummy, the ends of them fluttering behind her like tiny dramatic capes. There are dozens of cheap plastic necklaces hanging from her neck. She’s wearing bright pink shutter sunglasses and- are those confetti poppers in her hands?

“DING DONG! THE BASTARD IS DEAD!” She shouts, popping each of the poppers. The confetti goes everywhere, covering both of the girls and sticking in their hair. Vanya can’t even cover her ears against the noise, because she’s frozen in shock. She can hear Ella laughing hysterically, and she can feel the strange energy and humming in the air that tells her her daughter is floating. Probably out of surprise or excitement instead of purposefully, but still. 

Cara blows on a party horn, loudly. Vanya flinches, Ella almost pees herself laughing.

Vanya can hear the muffled sound the two talking for a bit, and then suddenly she’s being forced into a party hat. She tries her best to fight the two pairs of hands away, but they are determined. They manage to force one atop her head, and she’s so tired that she doesn’t even take it off. Then Ella is dancing in the air in front of her, shutter shades on her face and streamers billowing behind her as she moves.

“You look like an angry wet cat.” Cara chuckles from beside her, and when did she get there? Vanya tries to glare at her, party hat and all, but it must come off as more tired and pathetic, because Cara wraps her in a hug. 

Despite the woman’s continued unhelpfulness, Vanya returns the hug full force. She buries her face in her friend’s silky hair, surrounding herself with Cara’s scent, something that reminds her of the smell of a forest after rainfall. She presses her ear against the woman’s neck, just so she can faintly hear and feel her pulse. Just to remind herself that someone else is here, they’re real and with her. 

Being held as an adult is something Vanya never realized she needed until Cara came blasting into her life. 

She pulls back, her eyes stinging, and then actually takes in her friend’s appearance. Even without the glasses, which were given to Ella, she looks completely ridiculous. Vanya gives her a watery smile with a chuckle that she chokes on. 

“Did you- Did you raid a Party City on the way here?”

“Perhaps.” Cara replies, and then she blows the party horn into Vanya’s face, the weird tail thing hitting her in the cheek. Vanya chuckles a bit more while wiping her eyes, and then sits back to watch Ella’s zero-gravity happy dance. She just smiles tiredly as Cara cheers her daughter on with the multitude of party supplies she brought. Vanya doesn’t think about what happens next.

It doesn't last, of course.

* * *

_“This is Vanya Hargreeves, leave a message and I’ll get back to you.”_

**Beep.**

_“Hello, Miss Vanya, It’s Pogo. I don’t know if you have heard the news, but if not, I’m sincerely sorry to inform you ...”_

* * *

It's the morning of the funeral and Vanya is about to either cry or commit murder. Possibly both. Probably both. She has gotten a total of 2 hours of sleep and her friend is testing her today.

“_Please,_ Cara,” Vanya begs into the phone, bending her knees down as she whines. 

“Did my answer change? Let’s check with the judges,” Cara starts humming the _Jeopardy_ theme while Vanya looks up, closes her eyes, and lets her head fall back against the wall with a _thunk_, “Ah! Look at that! It did not! The answer is still, in fact, no!”

“Why not?” Vanya bursts out after letting her friend finish her sarcastic tirade, stamping her feet a little.

There’s a silence on the other end. Then, “Did you just stomp your feet?”

She did. Her eyes widen and then squeeze shut in a grimace. 

“Uh… No.” Vanya winces out, like a liar. 

“You did!” Cara sounds overjoyed. Vanya presses her lips together in a thin line as Cara’s laughter floats over the line, turning her head toward the wall to hit her forehead lightly against it, “I swear I was talking to _Vanya_ Hargreeves, not _Ella_, the 7 year old child.”

“Well I thought I called a friend, not a backstabbing, stubborn-” Vanya starts to snarl out, her grip on the phone tightening, but then she turns her attention toward the loud footsteps running down the hallway. She takes one look at her daughter and sighs, “Oh, hold on a second.”

Vanya puts the phone speaker to her chest. “Ella, you’re not wearing that.” 

“Why not?” Ella asks, irritated.

She’s wearing hot pink leggings with purple polka-dots, paired with a zebra-striped top. Her neon, multicolored socks are knee-length and stretched over her leggings. Her favorite shoes are on her feet, the platform ones with neon rainbow laces and purple fairy designs on the sides. They light up, of course. 

There are two giant, glaring problems with the outfit, besides the obvious: first, the poofy monstrosity of a tutu she’s wearing over her leggings. The cheap, purple fabric reaches her ankles. Second, the fact that she’s wearing what must be every bracelet she has ever made on both arms all the way up to her elbows.

“Because it’s a funeral,” Vanya deadpans, “And you look like you’re on your way to a rave with a pocketful of molly.” 

“To a _what_ with a pocket of _what_?” 

“I- Oh, just change, please.” Vanya waves a hand at her, turning back to the phone cradle on the wall and continuing her conversation. She misses Ellie screwing up her face and sticking her tongue out at her mother’s back before stomping off to her room to change.

“You still there?”

“Hm? Yes, prime backstabber, at your service.” Cara replies, and Vanya can just see her friend languishing in her pain, like some sort of glamorous witch. She rubs the persistent sleep out of her eyes with her knuckles.

“Why do you enjoy my suffering?” Vanya asks her, prompting a chuckle from the woman.

“I like my souls tortured before I consume them.” Cara replies, her voice flat and completely serious.

Vanya grins a little despite herself, “Ah. All in the name of your lord Satan, I presume.”

“Mm. Yes. Quite.” Cara shoots back in a cushy, pompous British accent. Vanya can’t help the full smile that grows on her face, and she finds herself chuckling slightly along with Cara’s giggles. 

They calm down after a while, and then Vanya is back at it, “Seriously, why can’t you watch her? You love Ella. She loves you. Let it happen.”

“Alas, I have to work.” Cara says back lightly.

Vanya actually pulls back the phone to narrow her eyes at it, as if it was to blame. She brings it back to her ear, “Horseshit.”

“Well, yeah.” Cara agrees easily, “I never said it wasn’t, sweetums.”

Vanya rolls her eyes, and turns while pinching the bridge of her nose, “C’mon, Cara, You know I- No, Ella.”

Said child is standing there, wearing her light pink fairy nightgown with the same shoes, and nothing else. Not even socks, which Vanya can’t even fathom the reason behind.

The truly shocking part is her hair, which the 7 year old has used every single scrunchie she could find on. There’s about 20 separated locks of hair cascading down from the top of her head. They get in the way of her face, so she has to blow strands away from her features to glare at her mother. It’s so long now that it tangles with her arms (and the bracelets that were not removed) as she crosses them. She almost rips a few of her rogue pig-tails loose, and is forced to throw them over her shoulder before re-adapting her stance.

“Why _not?!_” The girl shouts in childish outrage. She stomps one foot, and the lights in her shoe flash. 

“Wha- You’re not even wearing pants!” Vanya says, remembering the phone she is still talking into when hysterical laughter plays into her ear. She pulls it to her chest again with a scowl, “I should not have to explain why you can’t leave the house wearing that, much less go to a funeral!”

“It’s fashion, Mommy.” Ellie insists, turning her nose up and puffing out her chest under her crossed arms. She would probably try to look down her nose in a snooty way, but at 4 feet, it’s difficult.

“It’s not happening, is what it is.” Vanya says, and she’s proud to say she doesn’t even waver when Ella’s little face falls, “I told you, black shirt with no colorful patterns, some leggings or jeans that aren’t too bright, white socks, and you’re wearing the shoes we got you a while ago for formal things.”

Ellie’s eyes follow the way Vanya’s pointing, only to land on some perfectly acceptable Mary Janes and widen with palpable horror.

“_Those?_” She gasps, whipping her head back to her mother with a curled lip and a hand on her heart, as if Vanya had just given her the shock of her life. Vanya isn’t surprised. 

“Yes, _those,_” She replies, trying very hard not to roll her eyes at her daughter’s dramatics, “Who else did you think they were for?”

“But- I- But-” Ella splutters, and Vanya almost can’t tell if the stutter is for dramatic effect or if she’s actually upset, “I can’t wear those! They’re so… _boring!_”

“You can wear them, and you will.” Vanya replies with a specific tone that fills Ellie with some trepidation, “Just because they don’t light up doesn’t mean they’re boring. They’re nice.”

“What’s the point of shoes if they don’t light up?” Ellie asks, aghast, with her mouth gaping open, the blasphemy of her mother’s statement destroying any warning her tone may have created.

“And take your hair down.” Vanya continues over her, knowing that any answer would continue the argument, “I might have to brush through it again now. You’re wearing it down, with a headband, or a ponytail. No crazy styles or colors today.”

The child makes a strangled noise of protest and throws her arms out to her sides, bringing Vanya’s attention to the bracelets that are stacked next to each other, covering the entirety of Ella’s forearms. She lowers the phone a little from where she was about to replace it back to her ear.

“Also, you’re not wearing all of those bracelets.” Vanya says, ignoring the way her child’s eyes widen to an impossible size.

“Bu- But I wanna show them!” Ellie shouts, her body almost shaking with the injustice of all.

“You’re taking your backpack, right? Put a few of them in there. You can wear one.” Vanya reasons logically. Any logic is lost on the child.

“_One?!_” Ella shrieks, familiar minty green sparks bursting into existence on her hands. They run lazily down her fingers, strands of electricity connecting between her digits like a pale green taser. 

“Yes, one.” Vanya replies, watching passively as the pillows nearest to Ella on the couch start to float with the same sparks flashing around them, “Now, go change.”

Ella doesn’t move, but her ridiculous hair starts to float above her slightly as if underwater. She just glares at Vanya with a suspiciously wobbly scowl, “No!” 

Vanya moves out of the way to avoid a floating homeschool workbook that has suddenly found a bit more momentum towards her head. She looks around the apartment. More objects are shuttering off of the ground, including the dreaded Mary Janes, and are starting to move with purpose instead of floating aimlessly.

“Ella-” 

“_No!_” Ellie interrupts, pursing her lips and scrunching up her nose to hold back childish tears, “It’s not fair, It’ll look stupid-”

Ella continues on her rant, stomping her feet and clenching her fists all the while. Vanya sees the way some of the objects are drifting towards her daughter, her sparks flashing angrily around their normally invisible gravitational field. 

"-I don't know why I even _try-_" Foot stomp. Shoe lights up. Objects jerk suddenly in every direction, a contrasting movement compared to their threatening, ominous, slow orbit. Vanya can hear the soft crackle of sparks get louder around the girl's fists. She has to hastily jump out of the way to avoid one of Ella’s dolls from her nearby dollhouse dive bombing towards her chest.

Her sparks are appearing at a faster rate now, zipping down her fingers almost like electric water. They flash around the objects in the air like green lightning in the night. Vanya can see the beginnings of the power sinking into Ella’s little wrists, looking like bracelets of concentrated light. It’s not until Vanya feels her daughter’s power wash over her, a similar feeling to going down a rollercoaster hill, that she decides she’s had enough.

“_Ella Grace!_” She snaps out, her voice as sharp and unexpected as a switchblade in a dark alley. 

Her daughter immediately stops her tantrum, freezing. Her hair drops from floating around her head like menacing snakes. The objects in the air lose their purpose and begin to float without direction again, the sparks around them and on her fists calming and slowing down. Vanya can hear the hum in her ears from her child’s abilities that she hadn’t noticed before. It’s stilted now, full of fearful anticipation, much like Ellie’s eyes that stare up at her from a bowed head.

Vanya takes a deep breath, lets it out. “Do you want to go with me to meet your aunt and uncles?”

Ella slowly nods, looking to her feet, “Yeah.”

“Then you are going to stop throwing a fit, go change into what I told you, and then come out here to clean up your mess.” Vanya commands, the hand not holding the phone on her hip. 

The child nods, still looking towards her feet with slumped shoulders. She starts dragging her foot, drawing a pattern that only she can see with the tip of her toe. 

“S’rry, Mommy.” She mumbles.

“Just go.” Vanya sighs, and then points to the hall with her free hand when Ella doesn’t move, “Now.”

The reprimanded fashionista skulks off to her room, dragging her feet the entire way. When she gets far enough, the dying hum in Vanya’s ears finally stops, and all the objects floating around the room drop from the air. She can’t even find it within herself to be relieved when she doesn’t hear anything shattering.

Vanya hates having to discipline her child. She feels dirty. It always feels like one wrong step, one wrong move, and she's the same as _him._ She releases a shaky breath.

She lets her body fall against the wall again, her legs not really feeling up to the task of keeping her upright anymore. She hugs herself with her free hand, fisting the material of her shirt tightly. It doesn’t do shit to make her feel any more grounded. She breathes hard through her nose before raising the phone to her ear with a crushing grip on the receiver. No matter how much oxygen she takes in, it still feels like she’s holding her breath. 

“How much of that did you hear?” She asks tightly.

“A fair amount.” Cara replies, only an echo of her previous joking tone to be heard. Her voice is jarring in Vanya’s ears, conflicting with the sound of the argument echoing in her mind.

Vanya doesn’t even let hope flare in her chest, “Is there anything I can say here that’ll convince you to watch her?”

“‘Fraid not, Mama.” her friend answers sadly, as if it wasn’t her choice. 

Vanya just sighs, covering her eyes with her free hand. She knows if she asks why, Cara will say _it's for your own good_ or something equally as stupid and justified. 

“I-I just-” Her fingers pinch the bridge of her nose while her hand still covers her eyes. She rubs at them, almost trying to dig her own eyeballs out through her eyelids.

“I know.” Cara says, and of course she does, she always knows. But Vanya needs to say it. It feels like she is simultaneously hyperventilating and holding her breath.

She tries sighing again, but it does nothing to release the weight in her chest. She slides down the wall onto the floor, hugging her knees to her chest with her arm but still keeping a hand above her eyes, as if blocking out the sun to see. The phone’s cord stretches but she keeps a firm grip. The phone is her lifeline, her friend is her lifeline right now. Cara is silent, but she can feel her presence there, soft and caring as always.

“I can’t do this.” Vanya says quietly, but knows immediately that it isn’t true nor what she really needs to say. She winces at herself and wipes her palm across her forehead, trying to soothe the headache beginning to form there. 

“Yeah, you can.” Cara says reprovingly, and Vanya grits her teeth, because she's right. Cara always _knows._ Her hand has settled on her other ear, her fingers gripping into her hair.

“Yeah, Yeah, I know, I just-” Vanya’s breath hitches, so she takes a moment to gather herself. Her fingers clutch painfully at her hair. Her headache flares and throbs. 

“I just don’t want to.” She finally admits, and the knot in her chest loosens slightly, “I don’t want to do this. I really, really don’t.”

There’s a sad hum on the other end of the phone, and it comforts Vanya more than many words could. Her head hits the wall behind her with a soft _thunk_ again. There’s a silence, so Vanya just rubs her temple and enjoys the fact that there’s someone actually listening. Even with a phone between them, Cara is able to make Vanya feel safer.

The silence stretches on. Then: “I’m coming over tonight. Family dinner. I’ll cook, it’ll be ready by the time you and Miss Ella get home.”

Vanya just leans her face into the phone. “Alright. You need anything from me?”

“Yes. Steal us the fanciest bottles of liquor you can find, and don’t let the bullshit get to you.” Cara replies. Vanya quirks up her mouth into a sly smirk.

“Your bullshit or theirs?” 

“Oh-Ho! She’s still got jokes!” Cara cheers, pulling a reluctant grin out of Vanya, “Listen, I left you a present in your purse for today, for when you get stressed. Don’t go all mousey around them, Van. I fully expect you to sass them up to their ears.”

Vanya chuckles, knowing that is not likely to happen, “Sure, Cara.”

“No, I’m serious!” Cara says genuinely, “Make them regret putting you down, babygirl.”

Vanya shakes her head, knowing the older woman would not let it go if given the chance to go on. She sighs again, but this time out of reluctance, “I still have to get ready.”

“Alright. Good luck, baby. It’ll be okay.”

No, it won’t. “See you tonight. Bye.”

“Bye.” Cara says, and Vanya smiles a little at the sound of a kiss being placed on the microphone. The dial tone starts. 

Vanya reaches up and places the phone back on its cradle before falling back down to her position on the floor. She wants to pick the phone back up. It's not even been 2 seconds and she already misses Cara's comforting presence. She feels incomplete somehow, and so, _so_ alone. She drags both her hands down her face, trying to ease the pressure around her eyes.

She refuses to cry about this.

Today hasn't even truly begun, and it's already shaping up to be one of her bad ones. The ones where Ella has to drag her out of bed to begin breakfast because she craves the peaceful oblivion of sleep. The days where she’s just barely there, going through the motions like an empty machine. The days where Cara has to guide her through simple things, where her friend has to remind her to eat, where she hates herself for ruining this kind woman’s life with her pathetic existence. The days where no matter how hard she tries, she can barely feel anything. The days where her daughter snuggles up against her chest in the hopes of cheering her up, and Vanya is finally is able to cry, because who could be cruel enough to curse her little girl with a mother like _her?_

Yeah. One of those days.

But she can't afford a bad day today. She has to get up now. If she doesn't, she'll probably fall asleep down here.

… She really doesn't want to. She will happily spend the rest of her days here on the floor, thank you.

Her legs stretch out in front of her to avoid being hugged to her chest again. She sighs. Her own body is ganging up against her. What luck.

The heels of her palms are smushed into her eyes, rubbing and pressing furiously. After a moment, she drops them, blows out a breath that puffs out her cheeks, and gets up to her feet.

After a moment of careful deliberation, she pops open the bottle that holds her pills and places one on her tongue, grimacing at the taste it leaves. She already had one with breakfast, but, well. She can't afford one of her bad days today. 

She goes to get ready, maybe to sneak another cup of coffee, but big, guilty brown eyes staring around the corner pin her to where she stands. She rolls her own eyes with a resigned sigh.

"Of course I'm going to help clean up, you doofus." She says to the eyes, briefly wondering if relenting this easily and quickly makes her a bad mother.

The hesitant but delighted smile her daughter gives her reminds her that she doesn't give a damn.

* * *

It's half an hour later when they finally climb into the cab. There were no more tantrums, with gravity storms or without, but there was a fair amount of negotiating. The resulting outfit was still a bit more… _louder_ than what she would’ve liked, but Ella simply would not be talked down to anything that called less attention. But that’s just how she is, her tiny little stylist. Ella wants to be the art at every museum, the star of every play. She’s a disco ball, all shiny and sparkling and reflecting beautiful light all around her wherever she goes. 

She’s wearing a short-sleeved black shirt-dress that reaches halfway down her thighs. There’s a V pattern of black, shining, square gemstones that starts at each of her shoulders and meets at the waistline. It weighs the shirt down a bit, which made it feel like a “real dress” according to Ella. It had been deemed “tasteful enough” by Vanya. The top was paired with bright purple leggings, which was the one thing that Vanya okayed, seeing as it did not clash with the rest of the outfit. Well, it didn’t when Ella got dressed, but now Vanya can see that the crafty child somehow swapped out her white socks with an electric blue pair. The little shit. At least she’s wearing the right shoes. 

Vanya smiles softly at her and kisses her forehead, carefully as to not to mess up her hair, which is held by a wide, black hairband. Ella smiles back, squeezes their still joined hands from crossing the road, and then lets go to look out the window. Vanya gives the driver the address she’s been avoiding for 7 years, and they’re off. 

She suddenly remembers Cara saying something about leaving a present in her purse. She hefts the bag up onto her lap with some trepidation. The thing is bigger than her head, but she’s had it for so long that she could probably navigate it blindfolded. She remembers when Cara dragged her out purse shopping not long after Ellie started Gymnastics, saying that “Every mother worth her salt has a Mom bag the size of a car.” Vanya, being Vanya, chose a plain-looking, square brown one that went across her body, giving Cara doubtful glances the entire time at her insistence on getting a big size. 

It’s well used, worn down in some places from Vanya shoving things in that should not be able to fit. There’s faded marker scribbles on one side, from the time that Ella took it upon herself to decorate it and Vanya was too tired to stop her. Each corner loop holds way too many braided strips of fabric, either old bracelets that had broken (she didn’t have the heart to throw them away) or some square-knotted ones that were created for the sole purpose of a keychain once Ellie saw the others. There’s a slight difference in quality between all of them, but even the worst ones that are hanging on by a thread are displayed as proudly as the most pristine braid. There are multiple hanging off each and every zipper the bag has, and Vanya uses them to pull it open so she can look inside. 

She had emptied out a great majority of the purse a few days ago, only leaving her essentials. Her wallet, containing cash, her cards, and a small, worn picture of herself, Cara and Ella at one of her Gymnastic competitions. (There is also a small photo of the original umbrella academy, tucked deep within the folds of the plain wallet, but she pretends it’s not there.) She has lip balm, one plain flavor that she prefers and about 5 other fruity flavors for Ella, hair ties and extra scrunchies, a hot pink fold up hairbrush with butterflies decorating the outside, her keys on her key ring that is also adorned with too many bracelets, spare bottles of rosin and polish for her violin, a few bits of paper and a pen with the Icarus theatre logo on it, her pills, an e-cigarette-

An E-Cigarette?

Vanya pulls out the package and stares at it. It’s those disposable kinds, with fruity flavors. This particular kind is watermelon. She studies it with a furrowed brow, finally flipping it around to see a message written on the plastic wrap with black Sharpie:

**For MAJOR Bullshit **

It’s scrawled in Cara’s wide, loopy handwriting, and there’s hearts drawn all around the words, a large one at the bottom with a smiley face in it. Vanya smiles fondly while shaking her head, feeling a laugh trapped in her chest. Her mind unintentionally flashes back to the first time Cara caught her doing the bad habit and joined her.

_“I didn’t know you smoked.” Cara says, staring at her with that eerie knowing look. Vanya wishes she would stop reading her mind and just focus on her own damn cigarette._

_Vanya blows the smoke from her lungs out the open window of her apartment, watching as it swirls away from her. “I don’t. I didn’t, I mean. Not even as a teenager.”_

_Cara raises her eyebrows a bit, “Really? If I was in that hell house I would’ve cooked my lungs from the inside by age 9.”_

_Vanya gives an amused hum, “Nah, that was all Klaus.”_

_“Klaus? The one Ellie said she saw?” Cara tries to catch her eye, but Vanya won’t look, even though she makes an affirmative noise with an absent nod. Loud, barking coughs come from Ella’s room down the hall, and she tenses a little until they stop._

_She focuses her eyes on her fingers, where she’s rolling the cigarette back and forth. It makes the smoke twirl a bit as it drifts up into the air. She brings it to her lips, closing her eyes as she inhales._

_“I guess I was thinking about him, wanted to understand him better.” Vanya remarks, smoke flowing from her mouth with every word, “But then again, that’s probably… bullshit.”_

_Cara snorts, nods with an amused jerk of her mouth, then takes a drag. She leans her head back and blows the smoke towards the ceiling in a playful way, only aiming towards the window a little. Vanya just rolls her eyes._

__

_The buzz in her head pulls words from Vanya’s lips, “I started after Ella was born, just a few times before now. Always when she’s asleep, never around her. I don’t even like them, honestly. I hate the taste. I wish they tasted like… I dunno, good.”_

_ __ _

_Cara laughs a little. “I think we all do, honey. But that’s not exactly the point of it, is it?”_

_ _ __ _ _

_“Guess not.” Vanya grunts, “But still, even the smell… ugh.”_

_ _ _ __ _ _ _

_Cara just chuckles from where she’s laying on her back, twirling a gray lock of hair around her finger absently. She takes another pull and blows it out slowly. Then she looks towards Vanya a little. “We all have our vices, and some of us have two, Wine Mom. It’s just how we deal with this thing called life. That being said, the way your life has gone, I’m not surprised you’ve got a few habits. No judgement from me.”_

_ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _

_Cara never judges, but Vanya feels the need to explain herself, and seeing as her brain is no longer on Earth, she thinks this might be a good time._

_ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _

_“I don’t know, sometimes things are just… bullshit. Like right now, Ella’s sick and I can’t do shit for her, and then she tells me that she met my brother when I wasn’t there, which makes me want to stick to her all the time like I used to, but I know that’s not healthy, and now Dad could’ve been monitoring Klaus and seen Ella-” _

_ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ _

_Vanya cuts herself off by bringing her shaky fingers to her mouth, pulling the nicotine in deep._

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_She breathes it out, finally meeting Cara’s sad eyes. She sighs. “It’s just….. Such bullshit. Major bullshit.”_

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_Cara snorts again, almost choking on the smoke pouring from her nose, “So cigarettes are only for MAJOR bullshit, huh?”_

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_Vanya feels her lips quirk up into a playful smile, “I guess so.”_

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Shaking off the memory, she places the package back into her purse. She sets it on the ground with their feet, next to Ellie’s backpack. The girl is quietly drawing on the window using her finger and self-made condensation. Her masterpiece depicts a stick figure standing on the moon.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Vanya leans her head against the cool window, taking in the somewhat familiar sights flying by. She’s not sure what she’s feeling.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Vanya has a weird relationship with emotion. It’s hard to explain, and every time she tries, her words fall through her hands like sand and she’s stuck at square one. She’ll try, though.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

For the longest time, it felt like she was watching her own feelings from behind a sheet of glass. If you see a campfire behind a pane of glass, you know it’s there, you’re aware of how it works, and you can see the way the heat distorts the air above it. You can even imagine what it would feel like, pretend that you're next to it. But you can’t actually feel it. 

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

You can’t feel the heat on your arms, you can’t feel the hair scorching on your skin when you get too close. You can’t feel the comfortable warmth wash over you and protect you from the cold, you can’t feel the burn in your eyes from staring too long, you can’t _feel_ it. Sure, if you touch the glass, it’s warm, and you can feel that, but that’s only one feeling to describe a whole sensation. It’s flat. 2-dimensional. Not enough to fill you up inside, not even enough to show on your face. 

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Vanya remembers the days where it's worse, when the space behind the glass is filled with fog, and she isn't able to even see what's happening, much less pretend to feel it. Her bad days. 

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

When she had those days at the academy, she just assumed she was feeling nothing, and was left to guess why her body reacted the way it did. She never found a point in wondering, though. Never tried to look past the fog. She just went along her routine and waited for it to clear, like an empty shell of a child.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

The glass cracked a bit sometimes during her childhood, enough to let things, people, in to the other side. Into her heart. The cracks remained long enough for her to feel a few things strongly. Hurt. Pain. Loneliness. Grief. The glass was quickly fixed, and Vanya just ignored what was left on her side, the things that got in and never left.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

It all changed when Ella entered the world. Her baby came into her life with such force that caused the glass to crack more than it ever had before. Almost to the point where there was no glass, no protection against the feelings, the emotions.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Without her glass, she's lost. Up is down and left is right and nothing makes sense. She never lets her glass stay gone for long, because she gets too close to her emotions. So close, she gets burnt. In those fleeting moments, she feels so much at the same time that it overpowers her and she can barely function, trapped in a different prison. But when it sends her scrambling to rebuild the wall between her and her feelings, she misses it. She spends the entire time behind the newly-fixed glass begging to escape again, to feel things again. The vicious cycle continues, and she honestly cannot tell which option she prefers. There’s no escape, and Vanya _hates_ it. She hates the constant feeling of captivity.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Vanya sighs, the breath showing as condensation on the window she's laying her head against. She fights against the urge to close her tired eyes, trying to focus on the cold feeling on her cheek to keep her awake. The feeling of the car's vibrations in the bones of her face. The quiet sound of Ella breathing beside her, a sound that calms her rising anxiety as always.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

And then there’s Ella. Her baby. No matter which side of the glass she’s on, Ella is able to make her feel things so fully, able to make her blood sing with emotion. She broke through the glass, and she ripped a wound into Vanya’s carefully guarded heart. 

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Things, people, are able to get in so much more easily now. Every hurt that her daughter causes strikes her to her very core, ten times more painful than it would have been before. In turn, every time Vanya feels love for her daughter, it fills her up so fully that she could burst with it, spilling out into the world in the form of fond smiles and forehead kisses. The same goes for Cara, but in a different sort of way, a less intense, but still powerful sort of way. Those two could break Vanya down and build her back up again with a few well placed words, and she’d welcome it.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Vanya knows, deep inside, that her siblings could do the same thing. She knows they’re still on her side of the glass, left over from childhood cracks. They could send the entirety of the life she’s built for herself tumbling down like a house of cards with one look. They could, and they would. They will. They’re going to, purposefully or not. She knows not to even hope they’ll be kind enough to build her back up again instead of casting her aside like trash. 

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

No matter how hard she tries to shove them out, her siblings stubbornly stay in her heart, destroying it from the inside. 

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Even though the explanation in her head barely makes any sense and doesn’t do reality justice, Vanya knows what she feels now. She feels like she’s calmly making her way into a fatal car accident. Walking up to the guillotine without a flinch in her expression. Watching her own murder without lifting a finger to help. She glances to the quiet child beside her.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Providing her torturers with detailed notes on all her weaknesses served up on a silver platter.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Vanya knows that this is going to hurt, so she decides to follow Cara’s advice. Kind of. Sass them up to their ears. Let them know she’s different now. Make sure they know she won’t be pushed down any longer. Push down all the feelings instead, behind a false bravado. Stuff them behind the other side of the glass, and then turn her back to it. Protect her weakness. If she can't see the emotion, it’s not happening, right?

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Speaking of her weakness, it’s been very quiet.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

She lightly bumps her shoulder against Ella’s, “Hey, TinkerElla.”

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Ellie glances to her mother with a small frown, “Don’ call me that.”

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

A teasing smile crawls onto Vanya’s face, “Would you prefer Ellie-Belly?”

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

“Nuh-uh.” The girl mumbles to the window. There's now an Earth drawn there with another stick figure standing on it, but this one has long hair on it's head. It's waving to the moon-man.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

“What about Sparky?”

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

“_No._” is said with firm vehemence.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

“Hmm….” Vanya dramatically taps her chin, ignoring the glare she’s getting, “How about Ella-Mozzarella-”

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

“_Mom!_” Ellie shouts as she shoves Vanya to the side. Vanya bursts into uncontrollable giggles, and there it is, the warmth, the sparking embers, the all-encompassing love.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

“_Wow,_” Vanya chortles, “Not even Mommy, but _Mom._ I guess I’m in trouble.”

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Ella just _hmphs_ and turns back to the window with her arms crossed. Vanya chokes down the last of her giggles as her Mom senses officially shift to Concerned. 

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Vanya asks, watching Ellie’s eyes dart towards her and then look away, “Are you still upset about earlier? Because I’m sorry I snapped at you-”

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Ella shakes her head rapidly, “No, no, it’s not that. I deserved it, I was acting like a baby-”

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

“-I’m not mad at you, I promise, I’m just feeling nervous and scared and overwhelmed about this whole thing, and then your powers went all nuts again-”

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

“-I just wanted everything to be perfect, and I needed to look the best for everything to be perfect, and then all my inside feelings went outside and-” Ella says at the same time as Vanya, and then stops, taking in the words.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

There’s a pause where they just stare at each other, then Vanya smiles softly.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

“Yeah,” She takes Ella’s small hand into hers, “Me too.”

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Ella seems to understand, even if Vanya doesn't, and squeezes it, looking at her window drawing with a furrowed brow. “I just- I just-”

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

The girl purses her lips and scrunches her nose just slightly, a face Vanya recognizes. It’s her ‘the words won’t work right’ face. Vanya sighs and wraps an arm around Ellie’s slight shoulders, pulling her close against her chest. She can feel some of the tension in the little body fade.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

“I just want them to like me.” The girl says into Vanya’s jacket. Vanya tries her best not to wince. There’s the hurt she was talking about, the stinging pain reaching deep into her soul. She's really not sure how to handle this.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

She doesn’t want her siblings to crawl into her daughter’s heart and hurt her like they do to Vanya. And she knows her daughter’s heart is big, open, and trusting, something Vanya hasn’t been in such a long time. Her siblings could hurt her Ella so easily. But she doesn't want to be the one to hurt her by taking away her chance at family, even if the family is shit. For all she knows, the mere idea of Ella's aunt and uncles was enough to firmly situate their place in the tiny girl's heart. If that's the case, it's just a set-up for disappointment. 

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

God, she truly feels like she’s bringing a lamb to the slaughter now. All she can do is prepare her the best she can, and hope for the best.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

“They might not.” She says flatly, the words out of her mouth before she could think about them. Ella pulls away from her, looking up at her with big, hurt eyes that seem to have expanded. Shit, she didn’t mean it like that. 

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

“I mean- Not because of you, baby, it’s just… they might be a bit shocked. Remember, they don’t know about you.” Vanya reasons, trying to save herself from the hole she just jumped into. Ellie looks offended.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

“Uncle Klaus knows about me! I met him, remember!” 

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Vanya grimaces. As if she can ever forget. “Yeah, but he didn’t know that you were his niece then. And plus, remember how Cara told you he takes bad medicine that makes his brain a bit funky?”

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

“She said his brain is like scrambled eggs sometimes.” Ella corrects, then deflates a little into Vanya’s body, “Yeah, I guess he didn’t know…”

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

“Yeah,” Vanya agrees, trying to remember if this conversation had any purpose besides cheering her girl up, “So, how about you try to not use your powers until I explain everything to everyone, okay?”

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Ellie is making the same face she made when she took a bite of cold mac-n-cheese that had been sitting out all day. “I’ll try, I guess.”

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Ella is crossing her arms and pouting, but Vanya pulls her closer and kisses her hair all the same. “I know, stupid rules.” She chuckles.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

“Stupid rules.” Ella grumbles back, agreeing.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

They turn onto a street that is horrifyingly familiar. Vanya can feel the coffee and the cereal she nibbled on for breakfast have a stroke within her stomach. 

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

All the plans she just made within her mind immediately fly out the window, and she’s just _scared._ She feels like she’s 13 again and she’s done something unforgivable. She’s been so preoccupied worrying about Ella that she didn’t even think- would her siblings ever forgive her? For the book, for this? She didn’t realize how much she wanted their forgiveness, but now that she has, she almost _needs_ it. Her mind is spinning with worse and worse scenarios and she truly cannot fathom a good ending from this. Her heart is in her throat as they pull up to the curb.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

“_Woah._” Ellie gasps from beside her. 

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

They exit the car, both of them holding their bags. Vanya stares up at the building with apprehension in her soul, while Ella takes it in with an open mouth and glittering eyes. Vanya takes a deep breath. Then she takes her daughter’s hand and walks inside.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I know, not what you were hoping for. This is all I have written. It's probably going to take me a while to write Episode one, so the chapters might be this length from now on.  
(YES I MADE VANYA VAPE OKAY LEAVE HER ALONE SHE'S A STRESSED MOM)
> 
> I know it's not what we all wanted, but I did work hard on this and I'm super insecure about how I wrote Vanya's emotions and everything. So PLEASE leave a comment letting me know what you think? PLEASE. I wanna know how you feel about it. Even if you hate it! Just tell me! I'm so desperate!
> 
> Also, if you didn't see at the beginning, I have made a Tumblr for this fic/the Umbrella academy: ellagracehargreeves . Follow if you'd like updates on my progress/ me complaining about writing. 
> 
> NEXT TIME:  
Vanya: I made this *presents Ella like a game show host*  
Literally everyone else: :0


	5. Child, Envy is the Poison of the Soul.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Allison meets her niece, who she didn't know existed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO THE HARGREEVES!!! 
> 
> This chapter is literally one big scene, but I didn't want to add any more on because it was hella long. This is probably going to be the average chapter length, and as you can see, the pace is really slow for now. Hopefully I can get through Episode one more quickly! but probably not, because I can't stop writing everything out.
> 
> Leave a comment! Tell me what you think! Sorry about the POV shift, I just wanted to write someone other than Vanya for a bit.  
See you in the End notes!
> 
> (Follow my tumblr, ellagracehargreeves, to be up to date on my complaining and progress on this fic!)

Allison Hargreeves wishes she wasn’t here.

It’s not the worst place to be, no. That would be sitting across from her husband- _ex_-husband, her brain rudely supplies- trying to have a civil conversation. She winces and tries to push the thought from her head. She knows first-hand that _that_ is the worst experience she will ever have to go through. Still, she’d do it a thousand times, for the rest of her life even, just to see her daughter again. 

Compared to the warm, sunny light and the loving atmosphere that she’s used to, the stale air of the academy is almost stifling. Everything has its place, every decoration pretentious rather than sentimental. There’s no dust to be seen, and definitely no toys to trip over and fondly put aside. There’s nothing around that would suggest that seven children once inhabited these halls. Hell, there’s nothing to suggest that any time has passed at all. To Allison, it feels cold. Colder than it used to be.

Being home again isn’t the worst thing in the world, but in her mind, it’s useless. There are many things that are worse than being back here that she would gladly rather be doing (like those irritating court-mandated therapy sessions) because at least they have a purpose. They help her get her baby back in her arms, where she belongs. Coming back to this place, though? This does nothing to help her get her child back. The only thing that brought her back here was some long-forgotten family loyalty, and a tiny glimmer of hope for a second chance. A chance to do better by her siblings.

She sighs and runs her fingers lightly against the cool wood of the banister- which is dustless, as usual- as she walks. No matter how much she tells herself that she wants that second chance with her family, she still feels like she’s running away from what’s important. Allison comes to a stop in front of those god-awful portraits. She just stares at her past self.

The teenage her stands proudly, arms crossed with her chest pushed out. The quirk of her eyebrows suggests that if one were to remove the mask, they would be blown away by the sheer level of narcissistic self-assurance in her eyes. _I’m better than you,_ the teenager in the portrait seems to say, _I’m better than everyone in the whole world, and no one can stop me from getting what I want._

Allison wants to scoff. That girl knows nothing. 

The sound of the front door opening echoes through the space, but Allison is so absorbed in the past that it barely registers in her mind.

Of course, her siblings knew how delusional she was at the time. They knew that it would all come crashing down for her someday. They might have even tried to tell her that, but Allison never listened to anyone who told her no. At least, she hopes that was the case. She hopes that they at least tried to save her from herself, instead of sitting on the sidelines while sadly shaking their heads. She doesn’t want to face them now, with her life in tatters all around her. She doesn’t want their triumphant looks, their silent _I told you so’s _and _I knew it’s._ She doesn’t want their pitying eyes and their empty words, either. She's not sure what she wants, if she wants anything from them, really. She’s starting to forget why she even came here, what the point was-

Her eyes find the masked ones of a young Luther. Allison hastily looks away, then takes a deep breath.

She misses her daughter. 

She can hear the distantly familiar sound of soft-spoken words coming from the entrance hall, calling for their mother’s attention. Vanya. Allison wasn’t sure if she would come, but she’s glad she did. If there was anyone Allison seriously mistreated in their youth, it’s her sister. It’s as good of a place to start as any. She sets off for the stairs, wondering what it would be like to have a sister, a real one.

That is, until a second voice brings her to a halt, wobbling on her heels.

“That’s Grandma?” the voice says. It’s high pitched, quiet and shy. A child. Allison would’ve missed it if not for the silence of the house, the suffocating silence that makes the voice echo like someone struck a gong in her brain. Even though she knows what she heard, she still doubts her ears, because while it’s different and unfamiliar, it’s also… not. Allison thinks she knows that voice. She knows it from the years stuck in this house, she knows it best in the form of apologies and half-coherent mumbles. 

“Yeah,” She can hear Vanya reply, and that’s enough to convince her that she’s not hallucinating. Allison moves quickly down the stairs, wanting to figure out what the hell is going on, while Vanya continues, “But she’s.... I don’t know. Mom?”

“Vanya?” Allison has finally made it to the top of the main staircase, her sister in sight. Vanya startles a bit at the sound of her name, and looks for the source before spotting her. Allison walks slowly down the stairs to meet her, smiling softly at seeing her sister after so long, but then Vanya turns just so, revealing something that almost sends Allison tipping down the rest of the way and breaking her neck. She can see it now. See _her._

A girl is holding Vanya’s right hand and hiding a little behind her back. If her sister wasn’t standing in front of her as an adult, Allison would have been worried that she somehow time traveled. The girl looks exactly like her sister as a child, almost disturbingly so. If she had been wearing an academy uniform, the girl would’ve been practically plucked from the past. As Allison stumbles the rest of the way down the stairs, her eyes meet the child’s wide ones. They are the same warm brown that her sister possesses. 

"Hey Allison." Vanya greets awkwardly, her shoulders sort of slumped. She doesn't even address the tiny clone standing beside her. Maybe she's hoping Allison won't ask if she doesn't bring it up. 

Allison's definitely going to ask.

The girl herself, while hiding behind Vanya, is staring up at her with big, almost impossibly ginormous, dazzled eyes. (Were Vanya’s ever this big as a child? Allison can’t remember.) There are stars dancing within them, and her mouth is slightly ajar. She’s about Claire’s age, perhaps a bit older. She doesn’t look afraid or shy, as Vanya would have, just sort of shocked, and maybe awed. Starstruck. Allison is sure she doesn’t look much better herself.

“You… came.” Allison trails off, trying very hard to stop staring at the child, but it doesn’t work. Her eyes are fixed on the brown ones that are equally as fixed on her. She rips her gaze away for a quick moment to glance at her sister, who looks just as uncomfortable and anxious as always, but there’s a new tinge to her eyes, one of... fear? Apprehension? Allison can’t even process it before she’s back to looking at the kid, whose shock is starting to thaw. The look in her eyes morphs to disbelief, staring at Allison as if she was a goddess that had deigned to grace them with her presence. Allison’s not sure how to feel right now, how to deal with this information being pelted at her brain from her eyes.

“Who- Who’s this?” She hears herself ask breathlessly, because her mind is sputtering like a car engine right now and she can’t figure this out by herself. She looks to Vanya, but she can’t catch her eye because Vanya’s looking down at her wringing free hand and biting her lip, as if steeling herself to say something. 

In the back of her mind, she starts to gather an inkling of what’s going on, the most obvious answer, but it doesn’t seem possible. Vanya, of all people? Vanya, the littlest one, the one that looked too frail to care for herself, much less-?

No. No, no, no, that’s not possible. Allison wants to laugh at herself for even considering it. Besides, even if that was the case, she’d know. Of course she would, Vanya would tell her if she- if something this life changing happened. She would have said something, Allison would know. Right?

Allison hasn’t spoken to Vanya in years. Not even to tell her about Claire. Even if she tried to call, (Which she didn’t) she can remember a phone call with Diego where her brother bitched about Vanya changing her number for a good twenty minutes. That had been, what, about 7 years ago now?

Allison thinks she can feel her face lose color as things start to click in her mind. Puzzle pieces are coming together to create an image and she doesn’t want them to, because she’d know, she would know about this. Vanya opens her mouth to speak, but it feels like the world is in slow motion.

She would know. There must be something weird going on, something extraordinary, because it can’t be _that_, she’d know if it was. She would.

Wouldn’t she? 

“This- um,” Vanya starts, then swallows, as if the words themselves are blocking up her throat, “This is my daughter.” 

Even though Allison had been thinking about it, the confirmation of her thoughts- her fears- feels like someone sent a punch straight into her sternum, knocking all the air out of her and separating her consciousness from her body for a moment. She can see herself staring at a fidgeting Vanya, shock emanating from every pore. She distantly worries about her own eyeballs falling out of her head if she widens them any further. And then she’s back in her own head again, trying to figure out what she’s supposed to say to that.

“Your- Your…” she breathes, her own voice loud in her ears. Vanya fades from her vision in a painfully normal way and her eyes are drawn back to the girl again, tunneling in on her nie- Vanya’s daught- _the child._ Even though she can’t bring herself to think it yet, there’s no disbelief or doubt within her body, because she can _see it_ now. She can see the slight differences that separate this child from Vanya, the things that make her her own person. 

The most obvious, physically, is the hair- long like Vanya’s had been, but it’s wavy, and the color is so much more rich than she can remember Vanya’s ever being. What’s more is it’s taken care of, coated by a healthy sheen with no knots to be seen. The style is the most pronounced difference, no bangs to hide behind. It looks like it’s cut into simple layers, nothing extravagant, but it’s better than getting a haircut just for the pure necessity of it, like they had as children. It’s held back with a black hairband, but even so, the waves frame her face in a flattering way, making her features more open and noticeable than her sister’s had been in childhood. 

Their faces are slightly different as well, but it’s so subtle that it can be overlooked at first glance. The girl- Allison doesn’t even know her name yet- has lips that are just a bit fuller than Vanya’s, and a slightly more pronounced chin, maybe a bit wider, even. Her jaw seems to be less square-shaped, but the jawline is still sharp, something that Allison thinks she’ll grow into nicely. Their noses are exactly the same, as small and cute as ever. The child’s face is rounded with the same chubby cheeks that Vanya had, but Allison thinks she can see some of the features underneath that will take shape as the baby fat fades. It seems like she’s losing the chub earlier than Vanya did- it hadn't disappeared, or even lessened, until well into puberty. 

Her eyes, though- that’s where Allison feels stuck. Physically, they aren’t much different at all. The same color, and the same shape, kinda, if not a little rounder. Maybe a bit wider, overall bigger? But Allison can’t decide if they’re actually a different size, or if it seems that way because of the overwhelming _life_ teeming within them.

Allison doesn’t think Vanya’s eyes are _dead_, so to speak, but it’s difficult to find a sign of anything if one doesn’t know what to look for. Even now, all Allison can get from her is general discomfort, which has always surrounded her sister, and fearful, anxious anticipation. It was always hard to read Vanya’s emotions when they were kids, because it always seemed like she was barely there, barely feeling, barely real. Allison thinks that might be part of why they all just stopped trying to figure her out and pretended she didn’t feel anything at all. She’s too stunned right now to wince at the guilt that crawls through her.

But this girl, this child has so much within her eyes that it’s surprising that they don’t just burst. Allison can’t even decipher all the feeling and emotion swimming within them, but she can tell that this girl isn’t scared, and that’s the biggest difference between her and the sister Allison knows. Where Vanya would be hesitant and unsure, this girl is curious and eager. More than that, she’s confident. Allison can see it, not just in her eyes, but in the way her shoulders are set back, the way her chin is raised, and the way that she practically _buzzes_ with excitement, only a little nervousness flicking through the emotional whirlpool of her eyes. 

The child meets her stare face on when she’s finished studying Allison as Allison had been doing to her. The girl smiles at her, hesitant but not afraid, and that’s different than Vanya too. She smiles, not because social laws dictate she must, but because she wants to. And it’s not the quick, halfhearted flash of teeth that Vanya is known for; It’s a wide, full smile that stays on her face. It’s shy, but _happy_. Allison can’t seem to manage more than lifting the corners of her lips up slightly in response, but the girl doesn’t seem to mind. If anything, she brightens even more.

Allison has a _niece_. A whole different person that’s part of her family. And she didn’t know.

She has questions. So many questions. She wants to be angry, she wants to demand answers, an explanation for being left out of the loop. She wants to know when this happened, who the father is, why Vanya’s choosing _now_ out of all times to reveal this secret. 

(A little acid green snake called Envy is curled up in her chest, where it has made a nice nest for itself in the time since her divorce. It lifts its ugly head from its slumber, as if sensing that the poison dripping from its fangs, better known as Jealousy, will be needed soon. It makes Allison want to squirm uncomfortably; Envy does not fit quite right within her and at the same time it is perfectly snug. She does her best to ignore it.)

But she can’t bring herself to be angry right now, because those questions are immediately followed with: _Are you okay? Do you need help? Were you scared to tell me for some reason? Are you safe? What made you keep this from me? _

There’s one question that blazes above them all, though. It burns in her mind with its need to be known, the need for an answer. And it’s not a question for Vanya.

_What’s your name?_

Allison closes her mouth, which had been open for the last few moments like a gaping fish, and tries to bring moisture to the dryness that had settled there. She opens it again to ask the question that she _needs_ answered, but before she can even make the slightest noise, the sound of footsteps coming towards them makes itself known.

Diego. The king of angry brooding, but also of bad timing, apparently. The fragile moment between the two sisters is effectively shattered from the moment his footsteps reaches their ears.

Vanya’s head snaps towards the noise, before turning back to Allison and letting their gazes meet. Allison doesn’t need to try that hard to make out the fear flooding Vanya’s eyes. She can see her sister readjust and tighten the hold she has on the girl’s- her _daughter’s_\- hand. It seems that both of the women are aware that this will be unpleasant, at best. (Which means that it will be a complete clusterfuck.)

He saunters into the hall, the stupid vigilate getup firmly in place, his knives clinking against him as he moves. He’s walking with a casualness that seems forced, practiced. He meets her eyes with the same fake nonchalance, not even glancing toward Vanya, even though he must know she’s there. Allison realizes that his walk _is_ practiced, and in fact his whole demeanor is an act geared towards hurting Vanya. Diego was the most bitter about the book, after all. She understands why, of course, but even so she bristles against the malice hidden under his pretending. She knows now that Vanya’s feelings are not the only ones at risk.

“What is she doing here?” He asks Allison derisively, still pointedly ignoring Vanya. He’s ignoring his own niece as well by default, but he doesn’t know that yet. Said niece is not ignoring him, however. She had stared at Allison with stars twinkling in her eyes, but now she takes Diego in like he’s a cool, new bug she discovered while playing in the dirt. She looks like Claire does at Christmas, vibrating with excitement at the sight of so many presents just waiting to be unwrapped and toys to be played with. Allison feels a _pang_ in her heart at the thought of her daughter.

(Envy hisses in pleasure. Allison ignores it as best she can.)

It makes Allison wonder what Vanya told her child about them. The girl does not seem to be left out of the loop like Allison was, so what stories does she know? The thought brings back the harsh and hurtful words that were created from Vanya’s acid pen, and Allison suddenly isn’t as eager to know the answer.

Their brother finally glances at Vanya while passing by with a look of vicious irritation, no doubt about to say something cruel about her not belonging or something else along those lines. Before he can say anything, though, he performs a truly spectacular double-take, tripping over his own feet. The words seem to die on his tongue, and all he can do is stare in blatant confusion. Needless to say, his dismissive act crumbles into dust.

Allison studies his face for any sign of recognition, for reassurance that she isn’t the only one dreadfully in the dark here. There is some there in his eyes, recognition that is soaked in bafflement underneath the shock. She writes it off as a side effect of the startling resemblance to their sister, because Diego looks like he’s encountering a ghost. A ghost of a past that is better left buried.

While Allison doesn’t consider herself similar to her brother in any way, they received the same training, so Allison can see when he starts to note the same differences that she did. She can see it in the way his eyebrows furrow down a bit from their place at his hairline, the way his dark, suddenly calculating eyes dart to each feature the child has, almost never stopping. She can see the dots start to connect in his head, the clues slipping together seamlessly to form an answer. She can also see the way that the fiery anger in his eyes never disappears. If anything, the fire brightens. 

(It brightens because it’s being fed with shock and hurt and shame and hurt and guilt and disappointment and _hurt_, but Allison can’t see that part.)

Vanya must see this anger too, because she shrinks down on herself, and Allison can see her eyes cloud with more emotions than she can properly identify, but guilt is in there somewhere, shining more clearly than the rest. The woman clears her throat, as if trying to shake the emotions away. She looks at Allison, unable to bear the weight of Diego’s angry, questioning glare. Allison thinks that’s a good call. Vanya continues as if Diego isn’t standing there, much like he tried to do to her, but it’s more out of fear than it is hostility. That doesn’t stop Allison from feeling petty vindication on behalf of her sister.

“Y-yeah. This is my daughter, Ella.” Vanya tells them.

_Ella._ The name bounces around Allison’s head as Vanya pulls softly on the child’s hand she’s holding, as if to beckon her out from hiding. The girl- _Ella_, doesn’t need to be told twice, practically bouncing forward as if taking center stage at her own musical. She grins and waves at them, both of them, with only a hint of nervousness showing on her countenance. Her eyes seem to shift to a new golden-brown color in the new light. The girl’s confidence alone is enough to make Allison able to almost see the spotlights that all converge on this tiny person. _Ella._

Allison smiles softly, because it fits. That name fits this girl, this happy, bubbly child who doesn’t need to say a word to be likeable. The name fits her smile, so big and sincere every time. It fits her energy, which radiates out of her in massive proportions. It fits her eyes, swirling with such excitement, such curiosity, and such kindness that it’s overwhelming for Allison, who has not even known her for twenty minutes. It just ...fits. 

Ella sees her smile and brightens even more than what should be possible, returning it with a full blown beam of teeth that has more love in it than it rightfully should have. Her warm, stupidly big eyes have such hopefulness in them that when combined with the loving smile, it has enough force to make Allison almost step back to steady herself. Ella turns the same look to Diego, not seemingly content to ignore him like her mother (who is _Vanya_) is. The newly discovered uncle has the same look as someone getting drop kicked in the stomach, before quickly returning to his angry look, crossing his arms across his chest. It doesn’t matter, because Allison saw the slip. _Big angry Diego feels feelings_, she wants to tease, but now’s not the time. She’ll do it later.

Vanya continues, risking a glance at Diego before curling in on herself even more and returning to Allison, “I-I know this is- I- I swear I’ll explain once everyone’s together-”

Diego scoffs. He turns his face to look away from them, shaking his head and twisting his mouth into a mean half-smile.

Ella’s face falls. Not like a small tumble to the ground that can be brushed off, but like an _avalanche_; instant, horrifying, and devastating to those standing in its way. It hurts so much more than Vanya’s disappointed mumbles of _oh. Okay._ when they told her she could not join them, her downturned head at their mean comments, her bangs that hid her tearful eyes at the constant chant of _go away! Just get out! _

No, this is a new type of horrible, a sadness that doesn’t hide to spare the tormentors from guilt. It’s visible, Allison can watch as each layer of new emotion is displayed on Ella’s body. The happy smile is wiped instantly from her face, and troubled creases form in her forehead from the movement of her eyebrows. The brightness that she exudes is snuffed out like the last candle in a dark room. She steps back toward her mother and fists her free hand into her jacket, as if Vanya can protect her from the rejection of her uncle. Finally, her eyes, ever expressive, seem to inflate to an even bigger size in their sadness. They darken back to their normal color because of the emotion weighing them down. Allison can see the hope being crushed behind her irises, shifting into an agonized hurt that seems to thrum through her entire being.

Allison doesn’t ever want to see it again.

Instead of backing off and apologizing like Allison expects her to, Vanya looks down when Ella steps back, takes in her daughter’s heartbreak, and draws herself up. Something changes in her eyes. It takes Allison a moment to figure out what it is, because she wasn’t aware it was something that Vanya could change about herself. The soft vulnerability that has always been part of her sister, the reason it was so easy to hurt her, the one thing that is fundamentally _Vanya_, morphs into something that resembles barbed wire. It’s unsettling. Allison doesn’t think she’s ever seen Vanya’s eyes look this _cold._

She meets Diego’s eyes fully for the first time with a single eyebrow raised. She looks… detached. The discomfort is gone now, placed behind the sharp fence that her eyes have become. She’s almost unrecognizable, a simple look in her eyes able to change so much. Vanya isn’t even looking at her, but Allison can still feel shame crawling through her skin. It’s so similar to a certain recently deceased man that Allison almost wants to avert her gaze.

Vanya says, “You want to say something to me?” Which is unexpected, but Allison doesn’t know what to expect from her sister anymore. Their brother doesn’t expect it either.

“Do I-” Diego sputters, turning back sharply to face Vanya. His mouth can’t seem to close all the way because of the shock. Shock at either Vanya’s gall or Ella’s existence, or most likely both. He drops his arms from his chest and clenches them at his sides, but Allison can still see them shaking from some barely controlled emotions. She’s gonna take a wild guess and say it’s mostly anger.

(She’d be mostly correct.)

“Yeah, I got something to say.” Diego snaps, then scoffs out a cynical laugh while shaking his head, and jabs a shaking finger towards her, “I can’t believe you, Vanya. You’re-”

He stops then, a finger angrily pointing at his sister, just staring in front of him. He takes in Vanya, standing between him and Ella with that same hard, unsettling look in her eyes. He looks to Ella, who looks smaller than ever while trying to hide in her mother’s coat. It makes it seem like her glistening eyes are the only part of her visible, staring into his very soul. His gaze does not stay on her for long. His eyes seem to focus on their joined hands, the grip firm and unyielding. Allison doesn’t know what he sees, but whatever it is, it seems to drain some of the anger from his body. A new emotion takes over and he just looks disappointed now. 

“You’re an ab- absolute hypocrite.” he says, and something softens a bit in Vanya’s eyes. Allison doesn’t know why, but she is relieved, because that chilly stare just seemed..._wrong._ Vanya tilts her head in an accepting nod.

“That’s fair.” she acquiesces, stepping back so Ella is no longer completely behind her. Diego just sneers at her, (but pointedly not at Ella, thankfully,) and turns away from them to walk up the stairs. He’s shaking his head in what must be incredulous disbelief.

“You shouldn’t have come here.” he throws over his shoulder, and then they’re alone again. And it’s unbearably silent.

Turning to Vanya (and Ella), Allison purposely widens her eyes and raises her eyebrows for a moment before letting go, blowing out a deep breath.

“Well then.” She says, hoping to convey that their brother is over dramatic and also break the awkward silence that’s hanging around them like an ugly curtain. She shoots Ella an amused smile, hoping to reignite some of the brightness that was present before. She’s rewarded with an uncertain grin that is quickly covered with one hand, but that’s good enough for now.

Vanya lets out a shaky breath, and when she speaks, her voice sounds suspiciously thick, “He’s right. It was a mistake to come here.”

That it perhaps the true opposite of what Allison wanted to convey, so she opens her mouth to protest. Unfortunately, it is also the first time she looks at her sister, _really_ looks, so her protest is shoved back down her throat by overwhelming maternal concern, worry, and the most popular emotion today, shock.

Vanya looks _rough._ Allison’s not being unkind when she thinks that, she’s being honest. Vanya’s eyes are slightly bloodshot, and the dark circles underneath them are as dark as her own shadow. Even though she’s not wearing any makeup to be smudged, Allison can tell that her sister has been rubbing at her eyes a fair amount because of the redness. She’s pale, so pale that the slightest blemish stands out against her skin. More than that, Vanya can’t even seem to keep her eyes open, though the squinting might be due to a headache. 

Her lips are dry and cracked with barely enough color to separate them from her skin, and Allison can see the individual tooth marks indented on them along with a little bit of blood from biting too much. Her free hand is shaking ever so slightly, though Allison can’t tell if that’s from emotion or something else. Her sister’s face doesn’t look gaunt, exactly, but it’s definitely less healthy and full than the last time she saw her. Overall, Vanya just looks tired. More than that, she looks exhausted. That’s why Allison’s mouth is open but no words will escape. The only thing she can think is, _what happened to you?_

She’s not sure how long she stands there. It feels like an hour but realistically it’s probably just a second. It’s still a second too long to hesitate when you’re supposed to be defending your sister. Ella seems to agree because she speaks for the first time from Vanya’s side, looking up at her with pleading eyes.

“No, Mommy, I wanna stay.” she says, and it sounds so much like Claire that it _hurts._

(Jealousy drips from the fangs of Envy, the ugly green snake positioned over her heart. Drops of the disgusting feeling hit her heart and are absorbed with a faint _hiss._ Allison hates it, detests it, but it still happens. _Drip. Drip. Drip._)

“She’s right, Vanya.” Allison quickly agrees, because she should and not just to avoid the venom in her heart, “You belong here.”

And then Allison hugs her sister. It’s not a good hug. It’s awkward and Vanya can only hug back with one arm, but Allison can feel her sister against her. She can feel her shaky body, and she’s real, not about to blow away as her looks suggest. It’s weird and uncomfortable but it’s warmer than she has been since returning to this cold, cold house.

“Now,” Allison says while pulling back, tucking a strand of hair behind Vanya’s ear fondly without thinking about it, “You want to explain?”

“I- Yeah. I will.” Vanya stammers while looking away from her eyes, “It’s just- It’s a long story. There’s a reason I didn’t tell anyone, a pretty good reason, I mean, I had to keep her safe- she- I-I’d rather just tell everyone when we’re together, though, because it’s hard to explain. Y’know, If they care.”

Allison purses her lips, her curiosity blazing within her at Vanya’s not-answers. She nods sagely though, trying her best to respect Vanya’s choice. She’s got something important to do, anyway. She lowers herself into a squat at Ella’s level, (She sends a silent thank you to her personal trainer,) and holds out her hand for a handshake.

“Hello.” She says to the girl, her niece, who is slowly coming out of her cautious, unsure state, “I’m your Aunt. My name’s Allison.”

Ella looks up to her mother- Vanya, Vanya’s a mother now- who gives her an encouraging nod. The girl frees herself from Vanya and steps forward, taking Allison’s hand eagerly. She doesn’t shake it yet, but Allison can feel her small hand quivering in the loose, gentle grip. Allison has no idea if it’s because of excitement or nervousness, but she’s going to assume it’s both.

“My name is Ella Grace Hargreeves, but you can call me Ellie.” The girl says formally but proudly, her chest puffing out slightly, which looks like a difficult pose to hold against the almost oversized sparkly backpack that Allison can now see on her back. Allison shoots her sister an amused raised eyebrow at the middle name, but Vanya just gives her a tight smile and a shrug around the hand that’s rubbing the back of her neck.

Ella- or Ellie, rather- seems to take the pause as a sign to keep going, “If you wanna, I mean. Mommy still can’t remember to get it right, so I guess it’s okay if you mess up too.”

Ella sends her mom an accusing look over her shoulder, and to Allison’s surprise, Vanya relaxes for the first time and sticks her tongue out at her daughter, followed by a playful smile when Ella tries to hide her giggle.

(_Drip. Drip. Drip. Hiss._)

Allison blinks hard and gives a soft smile when her niece turns back to face her, “Ellie it is.”

The girl lights up at the acceptance, and suddenly it’s like Diego was never there. Ellie starts to shake her Aunt’s hand with vigor and opens her mouth to begin rambling, “I know you, by the way! Well, I guess I know _about_ you, ‘cause Mommy and me go see your movies, every year, right when they come out! I’ve seen all of them, I promise! Mommy didn’t want me to watch some of them, the R ones, but I watched them at Gr- at Cara’s instead!”

Allison wants to feel touched at the gesture, and she’s sure she will, but this tiny child has turned into a tornado of energy right in front of her and it’s surprisingly hard to handle. She tries to meet Vanya’s eye, but her sister is glancing around, like she’s waiting for something to happen. At the last statement, she merely raises an eyebrow, as if to say _excuse me?_ But Ella is not looking at her mother, so she doesn’t see it. Vanya might be used to this behavior, but Allison isn’t, and her wrist is starting to ache from the non-stop, violent, now double-handed handshake that Ella has yet to cease. In fact, she’s still talking.

“-and I liked the mermaid movie a bunch, but my _favorites_ are the spy movies, they’re the _best!_ Me and Mommy play pretend spy all the time because I wanna be a spy when I grow up! They’re like superheroes, but cooler! I might invent a bunch of gadgets so I can be a super spy, just like you-”

Allison nods along with the rapidfire words being chattered at her, opening her mouth to say something even though she has no idea what to say that will stop the endless excited rant that Ella has going.

_I heard a rumor that you let me tal-_

_ **No.** _

She snaps her mouth shut so hard that her teeth audibly hit against each other. She tries to breathe, but her lungs aren’t cooperating and her mouth seems to be valiantly attempting to swallow her own tongue. She doesn’t blame it. If rumoring has become a parenting instinct that now includes other people’s kids, she deserves to have her tongue forcibly cut out with a rusty spoon. 

“-and x-ray goggles, or maybe a super watch that turns you into water so you could sneak under doors and stuff! That would be kinda gross though, so I might have to scrap that idea. I have to scrap a lot of my ideas because sometimes they’re not functional, or just kinda useless, like once I had an idea for lip gloss that never lets your lips dry up, but then I thought that if that was possible, someone would’ve probably done it already-”

Allison keeps nodding along absently, fear at what almost happened clogging up all of her rational thought. God, if she hadn’t stopped herself, Vanya wouldn’t have let her anywhere near Ella again.

(_Like with Claire_, The hideous snake called Envy hisses, _why does Vanya get-_

**shutupshutupshutupshutupshutup-** Allison screams at it, desperately covering her ears.)

She can see it in her mind, Vanya yanking Ellie out of her reach in shock, holding her close to protect her from the monster of her Aunt, screaming at Allison with that same cold, hard look in her eyes that doesn’t abate even when Allison pleads _I’m sorry! I’m so sorry, Vanya, I didn’t mean to, it just slipped out, Please, God, forgive me, Please Vanya, Please, Claire-_

Allison stops the handshake with a soft touch of her free hand, swallows hard against the lump in her throat, and takes a deep breath to calm herself. At the gesture, Ella’s face clouds with uncertain hesitation again, like she’s trying to figure out if she said something wrong. Not wanting to discourage her, Allison smiles at her while squeezing the hand she still holds.

“Thank you, Ellie. I’m sure we will be good friends.” She tells her niece sincerely. (<strike>_ Please don’t be scared of me-_</strike>)

Her soft smile wipes away the uncertainty on the child’s face, transforming it to a wide beaming grin that lights up her entire visage. Her eyes turn to that golden hue again, and Allison can’t tell if it’s a trick of light or if it’s purely Ella herself causing the change. Allison’s smile widens even more.

Ella suddenly lunges forward, capturing Allison in a tight hug. Allison gives a little _oh_\- and is almost tackled to the ground by the arms that wrap around her neck. She falls out of her squat and lands on her butt, but she wraps her arms around the tiny body with a surprised chuckle that turns to honest soft laughter.

(She is infected with Ella’s brightness, in the form of a warm glowy feeling in her chest that swiftly flips Envy the bird. The snake is drowned out for this moment, overtaken by the glow that Allison recognizes from the much brighter sun in her heart that Claire gives her, but the two are not to be compared. It’s love, Allison is surprised to say. She has only known about this child for less than an hour, and the girl has somehow wormed her way into Allison’s heart. It’s not the same love she has for her daughter, nor the same as her sister’s, but a whole new type of love, unique to Ella and Ella alone. Allison is amazed by it, and thoroughly confused.)

“Ella, be careful.” Vanya scolds softly, fondly. Despite the absence of any warning in her tone, the child backs off and climbs to her feet immediately, looking between the two women with a chagrined look.

“Sorry,” She says mostly to her mother, “I just got excited.”

“I’m not the one you should apologize to.” Vanya answers, nodding to Allison who is still grinning on the floor, because she can’t be bothered to get up if emotions are going to keep catching her off guard like this.

“Oh, yeah, right, I forgot,” Ella mumbles to herself, before turning to Allison, “Sorry, Aunt Allison.”

See? The words ‘Aunt Allison’ simultaneously give her another burst of warmth in her chest and a debilitating punch to the gut. It’s much better to stay on the floor, where her feelings can affect everything but her balance. It’s a logical choice, she tells herself, not just because she’s stunned beyond recognition.

“It’s okay” She assures with that stupid grin that won’t go away. Ella smiles back brightly before turning to her mother, bouncing on her feet.

“Can I go look around now? This place looks huge, I wanna see everything.” Ella asks Vanya, and then ‘asking’ slowly shifts to ‘begging’ at the sight of Vanya’s reluctance, “Please? I really wanna explore. I won’t even touch anything, or climb stuff, or even… the other thing! I promise! Please, Mommy?_ Pleeeeeaaase?_”

Vanya closes her eyes like she’s already regretting what she’s going to say, “Just the living room-” Ella immediately runs off in that direction, so Vanya has to shout after her to finish the sentence, “But be careful! Don’t break anything, and don’t wander off without me- Oh, whatever, she’s not listening.”

The girl hums her assent to the things that she was indeed not listening to at all, flapping her hand dismissively behind her as she looks around in obvious wonder.

Vanya sighs and shakes her head fondly as Allison climbs to her feet and dusts herself off. They meet eyes, but Vanya quickly looks away, her discomfort and anxiety firmly back in place around her. Allison opens her mouth, but she can’t think of what to say on her end, either. There’s a silence, and it’s awkward.

(The snake is back. Envy starts to bite into her heart, Jealousy joining into her blood. _Why does Vanya of all people get to have a child,_ the snake wonders, _When we get ours taken away?_

_Because she deserves it_, Allison answers truthfully, because Vanya looks at Ella with such love, such open fondness. Her sister loves her child, her child makes her happier. And Allison is honestly happy for her.

_And we don’t?_ Envy snaps back, _We deserve it more than her, what has she ever done with her life, besides write that nasty, bitter book?_

_You don’t know_, Allison defends weakly, _she could’ve done something else._

_Really?_ Envy scoffs a mean laugh, _Useless Number Seven, do something better than us?_

_Shut up,_ Allison says with gritted teeth, _I hate you. My life is based off lies. At least that book was honest, something she worked for._

_We deserve better than she does_, Envy spits, _She’s nothing compared to us._

Allison hates it. Allison hates the voice in her head, because it’s not a voice in her head. It’s just her. She is the snake and the snake is her. Allison hates it. She hates her nasty thoughts that come into being without her permission, and she hates the fact that somewhere deep inside she does believe them to be true. She hates herself for being the snake while also being truly genuine at the same time.)

“So….” Allison starts, trying very hard to pummel her traitorous thoughts into nonexistence. “She’s certainly got energy.” 

A _heh_ sound escapes from Vanya, “Yeah- uh.. We’re- I’m not sure where she got that from.”

Allison chuckles quietly along with Vanya, looking to where Ella is looking straight up at the ceiling with wide eyes and spinning around in place. Then she gently puts a hand on her sister’s arm, a kind gesture that she uses to try to comfort both Vanya and herself. Her sister jumps at the contact, not expecting it. She looks down at Allison’s hand for a second, confused, before meeting her eyes again in question.

“I’m looking forward to hearing that long story.” Allison tells her, trying to say that_ it’s okay, I forgive you, I can wait until you’re ready to explain._

Vanya’s face smooths out and she returns the kind smile with an uncertain grin of her own, so Allison thinks she gets it. She sighs deeply, dropping her hand from Vanya’s arm.

“Well, I’m going to see if any more of the boys are here.” She says, and Vanya nods, breaking eye contact when she ducks her head down. 

“Yeah, I- I’ve gotta-” Vanya throws an awkward thumb over in the direction of where Ella used to be, but she’s not there any more, which is probably a bad sign, “-make sure she doesn’t get into sh- stuff she shouldn’t.”

“Alright,” Allison replies, “I’ll see you in a bit, then.”

“Yeah.” Vanya mumbles, then speedwalks in the other direction. Allison takes a deep breath and turns to climb the stairs again. She lets the air out slowly as she walks up the steps.

That was not easy at all. Good place to start, her ass.

But the house feels a bit warmer than it did before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... what did you think? Was everyone reacting how you thought? Is it realistic? TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK IN THE COMMENTS PLEASE!! I love comments, and I'm excited to see what everyone thinks!
> 
> I was trying to use the "show, not tell" thing when writing this chapter, so I hope it's a good change and not jarring.
> 
> Next chapter will hopefully move things along a bit, and hopefully have more than one scene, because I'm gonna try and not write so much for every single movement. 
> 
> Follow my tumblr, ellagracehargreeves, for updates! I would also love if anyone asked me any questions, even though I making this shit up as I go. I'm gonna try and plan a few episodes ahead before next chapter, so maybe i'll have an actual plot to aim for.
> 
> I'm very tired!! But I look forward to your reactions!!
> 
> Next time: More Family!! Also Vanya tries vaping bc she needs nicotine to deal with her family's bullshit.


	6. Knives, Nicotine, Dread, and Repression. (Among Other Things)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vanya and Ella meet Pogo, who has many worrying things to say. While keeping a lookout so her mother can commit theft, Ella catches up with her Uncle Diego. Vanya is very tired and struggles to prepare herself for the inevitable confrontation, all the while nurturing a new nicotine addiction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. It's been a month.
> 
> I sincerely apologize for the wait! The amount of support and feedback has been astounding, and I cannot thank you all enough. Even a simple kudos makes my day, so the comments are AMAZING!! I can't believe you all like my work so much!
> 
> I debated cutting this chapter in half, like I did for chapter 2 and 3, (Which this is as long as, 42 pages!) but I couldn't find a good enough place to stop. Plus, I thought you all deserved a longer chapter as a treat for waiting so long. So enjoy these 20k+ words! I can't promise that the chapters won't be this long in the future, but I also can't promise that they will. Please just stick with me, I'm sorry if you get bored!
> 
> I'm writing this before I edit everything, so here I go! I really hope you enjoy this, I had a bit of trouble writing a certain grumpy asshole mommy's boy. (You know who it is.)
> 
> This chapter is dedicated to Matt, who has supported me through the entire process of writing it. I'm very happy to call someone like you a friend.

Vanya walks into the living room quickly to escape the cesspool of feelings and anxiety from encountering her sister. Well, she calls it a living room, but no one really lived here. They ate meals in this room, they read books in this room, and they may have even sat together in this room, but none of them ever truly lived in this house. They survived. And not well, in some of their cases.

Vanya feels wrong being here. Everything is the same, from the furniture to the polished surfaces, the creepy animal heads on the walls and the comics and magazines showing off the glorious Umbrella Academy. The various knick-knacks that have no meaning are still spread across the tables, spick and span with no sign of dust. It’s all the same, such a slice out of time that she half expects her siblings as children to come walking in behind her to take their spots at the table.

But Vanya is changed. She’s different from the shy little girl who felt so desperately alone inside this big, full, yet empty house. She has grown beyond that, she has her own little girl to care for now and a loyal close friend. She is not alone, and that is a fact that does not waver even when her emotions tell her differently. She has more waiting for her outside of this house and its hollow, unfeeling halls.

Being back in the mansion feels like putting on an ugly shirt that used to be uncomfortably oversized, only to find out it’s too small now and still just as ugly. Vanya does not belong in this place, she never did. It’s a different feeling of displacement now, though, because she no longer wants to be included here so badly. She has a life of her own where she fits just fine. The collar of the too-small shirt pushes against her windpipe, choking her as she tries to make it fit.

She’s aware of her hands shaking slightly. She holds one out in front of her, and yep, she can see her fingers vibrating, bumping into each other because of a movement that’s out of her control. She’s pretty sure it’s because of her very healthy breakfast consisting of four cups of coffee, a few nibbles of cereal, and a bite of toast, but the confrontation between her, her sister, and her angriest brother is also a contender. Her stomach feels painfully empty and sickeningly full at the same time, and she can’t tell if it’s emotion or bile climbing up her throat. She tries her best to swallow it back.

_I’m looking forward to hearing that long story,_ Allison had said, with a light yet bruising grip on her arm. Expecting something from her, expecting an explanation for her betrayal. It’s not going to be good enough for forgiveness, Vanya already knows. She’s not looking forward to it at all. In fact, Vanya would prefer to high-tail it out of here and confess her sins on her deathbed, when she’s old, gray, and has less fucks to give about what people think of her. But she can’t do that, because that would upset Ella. Also because she’s already promised to explain to her siblings, but Ella’s feelings are a bit more important to her.

(She is also very aware that she will never not give a fuck about what people think of her, but let the woman dream.)

She looks around the room, the air cold and thin in her lungs despite the crackling fire within the fireplace. Her mother is gone, probably wandered off somewhere. The house seems to be blue, in a way. The windows turn the crisp spring light from the outside heavy and melancholic the moment it passes the glass. It’s as though the walls themselves are mourning the passing of their owner. Vanya can’t relate. 

The relief and joy she should be feeling are muffled, faded behind her wall of glass. The grief of the house drags her entire being down, and when combined with her quiet jubilation, it just makes her feel tired. She’s emotionally drained, and she’s only faced half of her siblings. Vanya hides a yawn behind her hand. The sleep deprivation doesn’t help.

(Her worries kept her up late into the night, pulling her brain in 50 different directions. When she finally got to sleep, it was restless and only lasted 2 hours. She awoke at 4 am and resigned herself to making coffee and listening to her child’s breathing to calm herself. She sat at her table, drinking her coffee and staring ahead blankly, for hours until it was time to get Ellie up and the phone rang. Suffice to say, she did not sleep for shit.)

Vanya can feel something happening deep within her soul. The memories embedded in the marble pillars and the tiled floors are peeling back her growth. They are ripping away at the experiences that created the woman she is today as easily as cracking an egg. Their end goal is to slowly drag out the girl that used to haunt these halls. Scared little Number Seven. The girl fights against it viciously, not wanting to leave the protection that adult Vanya has provided her, but Number Seven has always been weak. She will not last for long against the pressure of this horrible house. Vanya hates her, but does her best to keep her protected within the depths of her soul. She cannot afford Seven’s weakness while confronting her siblings. 

The only thing that is not dragged down by the weighty blue sorrow of the house is Ella. (But then again, Ella has never let anything weigh her down, and that is meant quite literally.) The girl sits on the corner of the dining table, a position none of the siblings would dare adopt, excluding the ever defiant Number 5. She has dumped her backpack on to the floor below her, leaving it gaping open haphazardly. She hums a disjointed but happy tune while kicking her legs and fiddling with something in her fingers.

The way she’s sitting would have made little Number One balk and squawk out orders ‘til he was purple in the face. But even he would go pale when their father entered the room with an extra terrifying scowl on his face. _Ellie, get down!_ Number Seven, who is equally as protective of Ella as Vanya is, shrieks while fighting against more memories, _Get down from there before he sees-_

But that man is gone now, Vanya reminds her, and Seven calms. Ella can be as carefree as a child should be, she will never have to bend to his tyrannical rule. Vanya wants to smile. Ellie will never have to know those rules, she will never have to know the consequences of breaking them, and that gives Vanya such a rush of relief. Something tells her that even if Ellie _did_ know the rules, she’d sit on the table anyway. Her baby is too good for this place.

Vanya makes her way over to her daughter, passing the bookshelf/library on the way. She gives it a cursory glance, her eyes finding the same exact books that were there when she left. Her autobiography is nowhere to be seen. Good.

The minute the book came out, Vanya pretended it didn’t exist. She did not sign copies, she did not send any to anyone, (Besides Cara, who the book was dedicated to, with a written message reading _I think I fucked up._) she did not do interviews, or book signings, or open readings. She almost didn’t even do the photoshoot for the back cover, but she ended up doing it in exchange for making sure her child was never mentioned anywhere in the media surrounding the release. Vanya tried her best to let the mistake die out on its own while holding her daughter through her guilt. Her siblings might not have let it go, but at least her father never got his hands on it.

She’s pretty sure the old bastard wouldn’t have read it, even if he did get a copy. Whatever. She doesn’t care.

(_I do,_ Number Seven says. Vanya tells her to shut up and crawl back into her hole.)

Ella hears her approaching and snaps her head up. Her shoulders relax a bit after seeing who it is, so she might have been expecting another Uncle or someone else. Even so, there’s no disappointment in her voice when she says, “Hi Mommy!”

Vanya smiles lightly at her, "Hey, silly girl. What do you have there?"

"It's a surprise." Ella tells her, setting the object down beside her and hopping down from the table, "This place is so _big,_ even this room is bigger than our whole house! What did you do here?"

Vanya swallows, looking away from what Ellie had put down. It's a few black and gray strings, with the beginnings of a braid at the bottom. The start of a bracelet, which Ellie only makes for her Special People. Vanya probably has enough to construct a small office building, Cara has thousands, and Ellie’s best friend Julie from Gym class has been awarded a very intricate one. Vanya wonders who this one is for. She doesn’t know why the sight of it fills her with unease.

(_She’s making them a key to her heart,_ something dark and ugly behind the glass says, _and once they’re inside they’ll rip her apart bit by bleeding bit._

_They won’t mean to,_ Seven says, _They love us._

The ugliness scoffs, still trapped behind the glass but growing stronger than Seven by feasting on the same unpleasant memories that break her down, _Naive child._)

Vanya clears her throat, “Well, we would read books from the little library over there, and sometimes we would sit on the couches and study, but mostly we ate meals in here.”

“Why’s this chair got cuts in it?” Ella asks from where she’s migrated to the other side of the dining table. She’s tracing the grooves of various drawings carved into the wood of the table and the chair. She reaches a specific spot and gasps, looking excitedly scandalized, “There’s a swear word!”

Vanya walks over to stand by Ellie, leaning over and twisting upside down to read the words **_FUCK THIS HOUSE_** scratched in furiously under the table. She chuckles with the beginnings of a smirk on her face.

“This was Diego’s seat. He was always playing with his knives at the table, and I guess he still does. You saw his stupid outfit.”

“I didn’t think it was stupid! It was the coolest thing ever!” Ellie enthuses, bouncing on her heels, “I’m gonna collect lots of knives, just like him!”

“Jesus, not this again,” Vanya mutters under her breath, thinking back to that horrible time when Ellie was dead set on picking up every knife she saw and squirreling it away to her room. By the time Vanya found her hiding spot, the girl had a collection ranging from their kitchen knives to a rusty switchblade with a suspicious-looking stain on it. Vanya shudders. She does not like thinking about how her daughter could have possibly gotten her hands on that.

“You all had spots? Like I do at Gramma’s house?” Ellie asks, thankfully moving on from the subject of knives. Now it’s just a matter of never bringing it up again.

“Sort of,” Vanya answers, her fingers reaching a specific pockmark further down the table that she knows well, “We would come down every day when Mom rang the bell, and then we would stand by our chairs until our father came down. Sometimes he took a really long time, but we weren’t allowed to start eating ‘til he came, or until we were told he wasn’t coming. We would sit when he told us to, and then we would eat while listening to survival records. We weren’t ever allowed to talk at mealtimes, even if we were whispering, because Dad would get very mad.”

Vanya’s imagination drags forward the droning of the boring record along with the sound of silverware cutting through the silence. 

“That… sucks!” Ellie responds once she processes this, staring at Vanya in confused horror, “Why wouldn’t you talk at dinner and stuff, that’s like the best part!”

Vanya shrugs, “They were just Dad’s rules. If we broke the rules, we’d get punished.”

“Like time-outs and going to your room?” Ellie asks, scrunching her nose up at the reminder of the times where she’d had to suffer through such terrible consequences.

Vanya chuckles humorlessly, blank eyes staring at the head of the table, remembering, “No, worse. Much, much worse, sweetheart.”

“What can be worse than _that?_” Ella asks, honestly perplexed at what else could possibly top those punishments. 

Vanya smiles against the tears that want to spill. She is so, _so_ happy that her child will never know the ache of skipped meals, the fear of being locked up, the pain of being hurt by someone who is supposed to care for you. She revels in her girl’s innocence, something she has worked so hard to preserve. She does not want this place to ruin her pure, untarnished soul.

Her baby is _too good_ for this place.

“Well, _I_ think those rules are the stupidest things ever to be on the planet.” Ellie declares, apparently taking her mother’s long silence as a sign to continue, “Where was your spot, Mommy?”

“There, the other end of the table.” Vanya points over her shoulder, still staring at her father’s seat, unblinking. Her relieved smile slips from her face. She hears the pitter-patter of Ella’s feet running past her, but she can also feel the gaze of her painted brother from up on the wall, and she can hear _Now, I forbid you to talk about this anymore-_

“Mommy, look!” Ella yells from behind her, snapping Vanya out of her memory fuelled haze. She turns to see her Ella sat down in her spot, her arms just barely able to rest on the table. She looks so small. Too small.

“Do I look like you?”

Vanya nods weakly with a wobbly smile on her face, because yes, she does. She looks so much like Vanya, sitting there. Her loud, confident, brash Ella is starting to morph into meek, weak little Number Seven before her very eyes. The air of the house is starting to smother her light, the thing that makes her different than everything else here. It’s absorbing her bright little girl into its melancholy, turning her blue and dulling her, making her the same as Vanya was, alone and sad and quiet and lonely, it’s taking her daughter away from her and this is _too much._

Vanya’s hand makes a move towards her purse on its own accord, her fingers twitching even more as if they are already opening the pill bottle. But she stops herself, because she can’t. She’s already taken more than one today, and if she takes more she’ll probably start feeling woozy and even more tired. She needs to be alert and awake-ish to explain everything- and that thought does nothing but make her want to puke and strengthen the temptation for a pill.

She really shouldn’t, though. Cara would murder her. She remembers before she met Cara, she was downing almost 8 pills a day, and she felt absolutely nothing. Her friend helped with that too, as she always did, and got on Vanya about only taking her prescribed dosage. She pounded the difference between _needing_ it and _wanting_ it into Vanya’s head with furious intensity. Ever since then, Vanya’s been able to get through the day with her regular two pills, three if it’s a bad day. God, she wishes Cara was here with her, acting as her pillar of support-

Wait. Cara. Cara left something for her. 

Vanya digs in her purse, locating the e-cigarette box. She stares at it for a moment, before mentally shrugging and thinking, _eh, what the hell._ She tears into the cardboard- taking extra care to preserve Cara’s message and doodles- and pulls out something wrapped in thin paper packaging. She rips open a corner, and her nose is assaulted with the aggressive scent of candied watermelon. Vanya almost pushes it back into her purse due to the smell alone, because she’s worried that Ellie will latch onto the scent like a bloodhound and demand to try some, which of course Vanya couldn’t allow. She’s saved from that entire situation by the familiar, echoing sound of a cane tapping on the ground approaching the room. 

Vanya shoves the mess into her purse, not wanting to get caught with it, and glances at Ella. The girl has gone boneless in the seat, sliding down to the floor like a noodle, something she often does whenever they go out to restaurants to eat, so Vanya thinks it’ll be safe for now. She wipes her palms, which have suddenly gone sweaty, on her pants before turning around. She’s just in time to see him enter the room. His intelligent eyes grow soft as they land on her. Pogo.

“Miss Vanya.” He greets with a genial smile. She weakly smiles back as she walks toward him.

“Pogo.” She says, wrapping the slightly smaller ape into a deep hug. It’s better than Allison’s awkward embrace that must have been born out of necessity, but it lacks something that belongs solely to Cara’s warm, comforting cuddles. It’s still caring and full of nostalgia, and Pogo makes an approving noise over her shoulder before he pulls back.

“So good to see you, welcome home.” He says, still holding her close with a fond, soft look in his eyes. Vanya has never been able to read Pogo that well, but he seems genuine enough for her to believe his sentiment. To believe that he actually wants her there. That may change once she tells him the news. When she tells him the reason why this place is no longer her true home.

“It’s good to see you too, Pogo. I- um. Well-” Now that it is time to say the words, they all cluster in her throat, jumbling up and shaking from fear. She forces them forward. She knows she can’t put it off any longer, and besides, it’s just Pogo. Her siblings are going to be the real problem. “There’s actually someone I want you to meet. Ella?”

Vanya turns to see Ella crawling out from beneath the table, her wide eyes so fixated on Pogo that she trips over several chairs in her way. Vanya winces and clutches a fistful of her pants fabric to keep herself from covering her burning face like she wants to. When she glances at Pogo, her embarrassment seems unnecessary. The ape-man is staring at Ella with the most peculiar look in his eye. Again, Vanya has always had trouble reading Pogo, but from what she can tell, there’s only a little shock shown on his face. He didn’t expect to see her here, yes, but there’s no confusion, no befuddlement, no thoughts of _how did this happen?_ No, that space in his eyes is taken up by a gentle fondness, a nostalgic remembrance. Ella’s appearance must bring up lots of memories for him. 

Something about his visual reaction doesn’t feel right. Vanya has no idea why, but the lack of disbelief is rubbing her entirely the wrong way. _His face is different than ours,_ she reminds herself, _Emotions show up differently on his face. He’s always been hard to read._ She calms herself down for the moment, but her paranoia whispers it's suspicion in the back of her mind either way.

Vanya clears her throat to break the silence that had taken over while Ella approached, and had continued as the two stared at each other. “Ella, this is Pogo. Pogo, this is Ella. She’s my- my daughter.”

“Your daught-” Pogo repeats before choking off, some unidentifiable emotion making his voice thick. He looked to Vanya as she spoke, but as his words failed him, his glistening eyes returned to Ella, who was shyly staring down at her wringing hands. She looks up, most likely feeling his gaze on her, and offers one of her tiny hands to him.

“Hi, Grandpa Pogo.” She mumbles, but not enough to be misheard, “M-Mommy tol-told me lots about you.”

“Oh, goodness,” Pogo exclaims quietly, smiling uncontrollably and taking off his glasses to wipe away stray wetness from his eyes, which are suddenly overflowing. Vanya is blown away. Pogo is _crying._ She can better understand what he is feeling now. He looks extremely touched at the title bestowed upon him- which Vanya did not see coming either- and so incredibly _happy._ He quickly replaces his spectacles and holds Ella’s hand gently in both of his, cane and all.

“Hello, Dear Ella. It is so very nice to meet you.” Pogo says to her, his voice growing increasingly choked up. Ella’s eyes are breaking free of shyness and are practically glowing with the acceptance. She doesn’t explode with energy like she did with Allison, perhaps sensing that Pogo is older and would not be able to keep up. Instead, she smiles softly, a rare feat of self-control that Vanya has only seen a few times. She gives Ellie a small proud smile, pleased with her daughter for not even having to be told to rein herself in. The girl brightens slightly before returning her eyes to Pogo.

“I do hope Miss Vanya hasn’t said anything too embarrassing about me. For a moment there, I was convinced that I had stepped into the past. I don’t know if anyone has told you this, my dear, but you look extraordinarily like your mother.” Pogo says after a moment of truly soaking her in. Ella’s eyes spark with excitement and Vanya wants to sigh. At least there was an attempt at calmness.

“Mommy only tells good stories, I promise! She says that you’re nice and smart and she loves you.” Ella says, stutter-less, as Pogo lets go of her hand, and Vanya ducks her blushing face down at the look he gives her, “Do I really look like Mommy? Like when she was little? Mommy says I do but there’s no pictures to prove it.”

“Oh yes,” Pogo assures her with a faux-serious voice, “I dare say the two of you could have been twins!”

Ella’s smile grows to the point of slightly crazed, and Vanya can see her energy start to take back over. Before she can say anything, Ellie darts forward and captures Pogo into a very sudden hug. The senior is chuckling with wet eyes and wrapping his arms around her tiny back in turn, but Vanya still fears that her child will send the elderly ape tumbling to the ground.

“Be careful, Ellie,” Vanya warns for the second time that day, and she doubts it will be the last. Pogo waves her off with a delighted, watery smile.

“It’s quite alright, Miss Vanya.” He says, hugging Ella to his chest fully. His head rests upon hers and his eyes close. He seems to take it in for a moment before sighing wistfully, “Oh, I really do miss you children.”

Vanya feels a weird form of guilt squirm inside her.

Ellie moves her head to stare up at Pogo with her big eyes, “It’s nice to meet you too, Grandpa Pogo.”

Pogo’s smile grows as she slips through his arms. Ella then runs over and flops on the couch, staring up at the walls and all the things on them. Pogo looks on fondly for a moment before turning back to a fidgeting Vanya. She opens her mouth the moment his eyes land on her.

“I’m sorry for never telling you about her, it’s just-” She starts, not sure what’s going to come through her lips next.

“I understand, Miss Vanya.” Pogo cuts her off firmly, causing Vanya’s eyebrows to furrow with her mouth still open. She wasn’t expecting that, out of everything he could have said. He continues, seeing her look of confusion, “You were just keeping your child safe. I would have done the same, were I in your situation.”

Vanya nods, speechless, but his words do not comfort her as much as they should. Instead, they feed the pool of paranoia and unease in her gut, because how could he possibly know the full extent of her situation? How did he know her phone number, even when she changed it forever ago? How did he know?

Vanya finds that this feeling is nothing like when Cara knows things without having to be told. When Cara does it, she feels loved and understood. Right now, she just wants to throw up. How did he know? How much did he know? _Who else knew?_

Before she can ask, Ella opens her mouth, pointing at Five’s portrait. “I gotta- have a question. Is that Uncle Five?”

Vanya swallows, wetting her dry throat. “Yeah, honey, that’s him.”

“Why’s there a picture of him?” Ella asks, twisting her body upside down so she can see Vanya.

“Dad put it up there a little after he went missing,” Vanya answers, staring up at her brother because she finds herself unable to look at Pogo. She’s afraid to see what else he knows. “He’s been gone for a long time now.”

“It has been 16 years, four months and 14 days,” Pogo says, staring at the face of the lost child. He is faced with two generations of questioning looks, so he turns to Vanya, “Your father insisted I keep track.”

Vanya nods, accepting this answer. Ella stares with wide eyes, and says, “That’s a lotta years.”

Pogo smiles, “Indeed.”

“Yes, it is.” Vanya agrees, sitting down on the edge of the couch and rubbing a hand over her eyes, “You want to know something stupid?”

Pogo inclines his head in an affirmative, waiting for Vanya to continue. Ella immediately dives across the space from the couch she was wiggling on to the seat that Vanya occupies. The child invades her personal space, sidling up next to her body and nodding up at her. Number Seven would have been very uncomfortable with this, but Vanya just wraps an arm around Ella’s shoulders and hugs her closer with hardly a glance. 

Vanya sighs, then continues, “I always used to leave the lights on for him. I was scared that he would come back, it would be late, and the house would be dark and he wouldn't be able to find us, so he'd leave again. So, every night I'd make a little snack and make sure all the lights were on.”

“I don’t think that’s stupid, Mommy. It’s nice.” Ella tells her from where she is tucked into her side. She has her knees up to her chest, curling herself into a ball against her mother. Vanya wants to tell her to take her shoes off the couch but doesn’t say anything in an act of petty defiance against a dead man.

“Thanks, baby,” Vanya says quietly to her, prompting a small smile that she returns. Pogo is chuckling and still wears the smile that has not wavered from his face the entire time.

“Oh, I remember your snacks,” He remembers fondly, “I'm pretty sure I stepped in half those peanut butter and marshmallow sandwiches.”

Vanya ducks her head down and rubs the back of her neck, an embarrassed smile on her lips while Pogo continues to chuckle. Ellie snaps her head up with a new exciting light reflected in her eyes. 

(If Vanya had to equate her daughter’s beautiful eyes with a physical object, she would say that they resemble glittery dark brown nail polish, swirling endlessly, and shining a lovely golden color in the sunlight. It is one of the only things that she and Seven both agree on, the fact that her daughter’s eyes are one of the most beautiful things she’s ever seen.)

“Those are my favorite! Mommy makes ‘em all the time!” Ella exclaims, dropping her legs to let them swing and bounce below her. Vanya knows the constant movement is a way to let out pent up energy, so she doesn’t stop Ellie’s fidgeting.

“Well, it seems you share that in common with your Uncle. He always had a fondness for those things, unhealthy as they were.” Pogo says, no doubt thinking back to when Five would devour those sandwiches like a man starved. Vanya certainly is. She can’t believe that he was allowed to eat so many of them at once, now that she knows the true nutritional value of the snack. There’s a reason that Vanya only makes them as a special treat.

Ella, despite already knowing the preference she shares with her uncle, lights up and bursts out, “Cool!” after Pogo’s statement. It must be due to a different person telling her, someone besides her mother being knowledgeable about her family. Vanya doubts that Ella forgot. Either way, Vanya can almost feel how much energy Ellie is holding onto, so she releases her from her hold. The girl darts off in the direction of the bar, taking in as much as she can with all her senses.

“Try not to touch anything, Ellie,” Vanya says to her as she goes.

“M’kay,” Ella replies distractedly, picking up a small stone statue and rotating it in her hands, no doubt smearing her fingerprints all over it. Vanya just purses her lips and rolls her eyes a little, deciding not to say anything because she honestly doesn’t care about her father’s shit. She meets Pogo’s gaze with exasperated eyes. He looks somewhat amused. 

“Your father always believed Number Five was still out there somewhere,” He says, looking back toward the portrait, “He never lost hope.”

Vanya doesn’t actually believe that for a second, but halfheartedly plays along, looking to the chimp, “And look where that got him.”

Pogo does not address the statement with anything other than a sigh, so Vanya cannot gauge how he feels about her words. He ambles closer to where she sits, gazing at Ella as he does. Vanya looks over to see her daughter standing behind the bar, most likely on her tip-toes, with only her wide eyes and her nose showing over the top. She is investigating the wooden surface thoroughly. 

“She is magnificent,” Pogo’s voice above her surprises her, as well as the hand that unexpectedly lands on her shoulder paired with an emotional look, “Just as her mother was before her.”

Vanya averts her gaze slightly, feeling her cheeks heat up once more in response to the blatant lie. She cannot fault him for trying, though. He continues even though she does not look at him.

“You have done a spectacular job raising her, Miss Vanya. She is a wonderful young girl, and I can tell she will do great things in her future.” Pogo compliments and Vanya barely manages to look at him because of his words and that weird _look_ he has, “I must say that I am very proud of you.”

Vanya can’t speak. Is that what that is? Pride? Pogo has said he was proud of her before, but never with this uncomfortable look that digs deep into her soul and turns her heart into scrambled eggs. Is this what real pride is? Is her past just full of empty words? Or is this something different, something more than just pride? He sounds almost… sad. Perhaps he is just old and weary, but that doesn’t seem likely. What does he have to be proud of? He’s not supposed to know about how Vanya raised Ella. Hell, he’s not even supposed to know _about_ Ella. 

Vanya feels the feeling of longing, a certain type of longing that is full of bittersweet nostalgia. She wishes that she had powers now, specifically the power of mind-reading. She wants to figure out what he knows. She is certain that there is a crack somewhere in her wall of glass that is throwing her off. She should be grateful for his compliment, but all she feels is pure suspicion. There must be something terribly wrong with her, to not take kindness where she can get it. 

“Thanks, Pogo,” She says instead of voicing her questions, not wanting to seem rude toward the only father-like figure she has. She smiles up at him in what she hopes is a convincing manner, not wanting to alert him to her horrible inner thoughts. 

He smiles back and removes his hand from her shoulder, and Vanya feels a heavier weight disappear with it. She shoves the ugliness back behind the glass from where it had slipped through, forcefully making sure it stays put. It has no business ruining Pogo for her. 

“I shall take my leave now. I have a service to plan, after all.” The ape says as he turns on his cane, “Master Luther mentioned having a family meeting to explain what we intend to do. I hope to see you two at the memorial?”

“Yes, we’ll be there.” Vanya reassures him, despite not wanting to attend at all. 

Pogo hums and nods to her, then walks out of the room into the hall, the tapping of his cane following him. His exit goes unnoticed by Ella, who is now behind the bar, doing who-knows-what. Vanya leans forward slowly as she listens to the tapping sound fade, making sure the coast is clear. Satisfied, she pulls out the e-cigarette wrapper out of her purse and unsheaths the object.

It’s a blue plastic tube, a little longer than her middle finger. One end is covered with a darker blue flat circle made of harder plastic than the rest of the contraption. The other end only has a small hole in the middle, so she figures that’s the part where she's supposed to breathe in. She casts another look around, only hearing little giggles behind the bar that fills her with dread, and then brings the tube to her lips. The end tip lights up with a circle of white light as she pulls the vapor forward. She can feel the object heat up slightly between her fingertips, and she hears tiny pops that are reminiscent of a campfire. 

She feels the vapor dance lightly on her tongue as she draws it in. Her senses are filled with the taste and smell of sweet watermelon, along with a taste of what must be nicotine or something. It tastes way better than a normal cigarette. She holds it in her mouth for a moment before inhaling, marveling at the way it makes her tongue tingle after a moment. It enters her lungs easier than cigarette smoke does, though it still leaves the back of her throat burning with an intensity that makes her want to cough, but she resists. It’s a good burn, in a way. She slowly breathes out, watching the vapor rush out of her mouth and curl upwards towards the ceiling. The buzz washes over her, leaving her both dizzy and calm. 

She decides she likes it. It tastes way better than a normal cigarette, and it doesn’t stink either. Plus, the buzz creates a thin, transparent shield between herself and everything else. It shoves Seven back into her corner, suddenly unbothered by the memories that surround her. Vanya fears that Cara has created a monster with this particular gift. 

Speaking of, Vanya has a quest to fulfill.

She stands and calls out to Ella behind the bar, gathering her close to tell her about her job. Every good thief needs a lookout, after all. Ella is ecstatic to help, and hurriedly grabs her unfinished bracelet with her backpack and speeds out into the hallway to take up her post. Vanya smiles after her and takes another drag, burying herself deeper in the buzz that chases away the sleep deprivation.

Now, what kind of liquor did the old man keep?

* * *

**Dedication Page of Extra-Ordinary: My Life as Number Seven:**

_To Cara, who met me on one of my darkest days and followed me home with a flashlight._

* * *

Diego Hargreeves is pissed off. He stomps down the first set of stairs, huffing, intent on getting a drink to soothe his troubles. He tries clenching his fists and releasing them over and over, but that doesn’t do shit to relieve his irritation. Controlling his breathing helps a bit, but he’d prefer to punch something instead.

Fucking Luther, still acting all high and mighty after all these years. Even just seeing his brother- his very big brother- made him bristle with anger. And the asshole got hung up on a monocle of all things? A stupid monocle. Even after Diego took the trouble to break into the coroner’s office to get the report! That is not an easy thing to do! But of course, Luther brushed it off, convinced that he knew better than the professionals that did this for a living. A monocle… honestly. He’ll have to check in with Mom to make sure she doesn’t have it, lest that giant jackass start accusing her of murder. Stupid fucking Luther. 

And don’t even get him started on Vanya. Fucking Vanya.

First, she writes that stupid fucking book, bitching about being left out of their torture. Doesn’t she know how lucky she was? Doesn’t she know how they all longed to be like her? To be ordinary, useless in Dad’s eyes, to be spared from his neverending attention and expectations? No, she didn’t, she was willfully ignorant because her _feelings_ were hurt. 

Diego stops on his descent down the stairs on the landing between the flights, beginning to pace with his fists squeezed so hard that his knuckles start to groan against the strain. He furiously tries to control his breathing, inhaling fast but deep breaths as he marches back and forth. 

What did she think they did? Did she think that she was the only one Dad put down? Did she think that anything they did was enough to satisfy that man? Was she stupid enough to believe that they were treated any better than her? No matter how far they pushed themselves, no matter how hard they worked, all they would receive was that fucking disappointed glower. Diego doesn’t blame Klaus for giving up entirely. Dad’s disappointment was an immovable object, it never changed, except for once in a blue moon. Every so often, Dad would seem less unimpressed, more indifferent, maybe even a smidge prideful. And that was enough to keep most of them going, just for the chance of maybe having that slightly different look aimed at them. They were all fools to fall for it. But Diego doesn’t regret working hard just to wipe the smug look off of Luther’s face. Stupid fucking Luther.

Vanya didn’t have to try as a child, she couldn’t. She was ordinary, there was nothing she could do to win their father’s favor. She should have just accepted it and moved on, instead of throwing a hissy fit. She couldn’t do anything to change it. She couldn’t do anything, period.

But she _could,_ apparently. She could be a traitorous fucking rat. Not only did she publicly smear her low opinion of her family, she outed a lot of deeply personal information to the world. She laid their lives out bare for everyone to see, to pick apart, to judge. Not even Ben and Five were spared, even if they were admittedly talked about in a more positive light. Still, it was unforgivable. Diego spent months being ridiculed and called out in his everyday life, shoved into the limelight by the actions of a bitter woman with too much time on her hands.

But not only was she a snitch, but a hypocrite as well! She happily pasted their dirty little secrets across the world, all the while hiding her own shrouded from their sight. She had a kid. A _child._ A new member of the family, his _niece._ Who the hell does she think she is? She got herself knocked up and she _didn’t tell them._

A niece- Diego can’t even process that right now. He doesn’t know what to think. He can’t reconcile the bright little girl that he saw with what he pictures as his family. She’s like her mother- an outlier, different than the rest of them, full of light while the rest of them are broken. And what’s worse is he sort of recognizes her, he knows that face from the mystery that has been plaguing the back of his mind for the better part of a year. He guesses that it’s solved now, but the implications of her being there to watch him while he was left in the dark makes him so much more angry-

No, not going to think about that now.

He couldn’t even say shit about it when he saw his sister. He was going to, oh _yeah_ he was going to, but then he saw the little girl. The scared, small girl with the big, fearful eyes. He saw her standing behind her mother, gripping at her coat, holding her hand with a vice grip. All Diego could think about at that moment was his father, hurling abuse at his mother while he watched, helpless to do anything to help her. Even when he tried to talk to her afterward, she remained completely indifferent on the exterior, since she was not allowed to appear upset, but Diego was always able to see more in her eyes. So, no, he couldn’t bring himself to ream into Vanya just then. And didn’t that just piss him off more?

Diego doesn’t know how to feel about it- that little girl. He’s angry, that’s a given, but besides that, he isn’t sure what the hell his emotions are throwing at him. He doesn’t know what he wants. He wishes that he had known about her sooner, of course, but he’s not sure what would have been different. He has another niece, Claire, right? And he barely knows what she looks like, let alone interacted with her in any way. Wouldn’t it have been the same with Vanya’s daughter? What was her name, Ella?

(Diego thinks that he likes that name, actually. It’s nice. Feels too nice to be in this house, this family.)

But at the same time, Allison and Claire were so far away, all the way in Los Angeles. Vanya and Ella- he hopes he’s remembering right- must’ve been closer, a few blocks away, at least. The opportunity was so close, yet so far at the same time. He’s not sure what opportunity he’s thinking of. But he can almost imagine it. 

Holding Ella as a baby, learning what made her giggle. Learning how to take care of something so small and precious. Teaching her how to walk, how to run, how to fight. Bringing her to the police station back when he was in the academy, letting her get fawned over by his classmates. By Eudora. Maybe he would’ve stayed if he had something, someone to work for. Maybe she would have, too.

Vanya didn’t bring anyone else, and there was an absence of a ring on her finger, so he’s not sure where Ella’s father got to. He could have stepped in. Helped make food, bought her toys, maybe even spoiled her rotten. He could have taught her how to defend herself, could have shown her how to use his knives. He could have taught her how to throw them until she was as good as him, purely to irritate the shit out of Vanya. He could have been greeted with that overjoyed “UNCLE DIEGO!” from the boxing match every time he visited. He could have been drowned in hugs and sloppy kisses and cuddles the moment he sat down, every time he sat down. 

He even could have been closer to his sister for it. He could have sat up with her, drank with her, listened to her struggles. Diego’s not sure how Vanya would be- is going to be- accepted into the family dynamic with this new addition, but he imagines they could’ve made it work for the kid, in time. They could’ve had family get-togethers, even if that means just letting Klaus crash on the couch. The kid could’ve played around with her Uncle Klaus, listened to his funny stories, and used him as a fashion and makeup model since Diego knew Klaus would totally allow that. Maybe Klaus would’ve gotten clean for her, even if it’s wishful thinking. But in the end, the kid would always come back to Diego for snuggles, for bedtime, because of course, he was the favorite Uncle.

(He finds that he likes this version of him that could’ve been.)

He could have offered comfort during the hard times, as bad as he is with emotions. He just… He could’ve helped. Diego feels robbed. He feels like something that never happened has been taken from him, leaving him feeling gutted. The emptiness quickly fills with anger, as Diego is wont to do when it comes to any other emotion.

He somehow calms himself down to where it’s no longer visible, no doubt due to that infusion of sadness that he will henceforth deny happened at all. He needs to be somewhat collected while dealing with his siblings, at least at the beginning. He is sure that it will all go to hell once Luther opens his big (now _really big_) mouth. He shoves all his anger into two words:

Fucking Vanya.

He hopes that she at least raised her daughter- his niece, Ella, his niece that he has- to be better than she is.

Diego turns and climbs down the last set of stairs, almost stalling again at what awaits him in the entrance hall by the door to the living room. Think of the devil and she shall appear, he supposes. 

The girl is sitting by the door, humming to herself while fiddling with something in her hands. Her head snaps up at the sound of his footsteps (He almost praises her situational awareness before telling himself to shut up) and then frantically hits the wall with both her elbow and her hand. It’s not subtle at all, because she is keeping eye contact with him the entire time and she almost knocks over a very glittery backpack next to her with her movements, but even so, he turns his head towards the sound of hurried clinking and muttered curses from the next room. He simply raises an eyebrow and looks back at the kid, who is now seemingly hyper-focused on what she has in her hands, resolutely not looking at him. He recognizes the lookout technique, as badly executed as it was. His curiosity is piqued, unfortunately, and he can’t ignore it. Even though he really would like to.

Diego sighs inwardly and rolls his shoulders, reluctantly ditching the plan to ignore her presence. He makes his way over to her, watching as her little muscles tense up with every step. She’s wary of him, then. He doesn’t like that, but he’s not sure what he can do about it. She looks so much like Vanya when she’s huddled over like that, it’s _weird._ He stands over her for a minute, trying to figure out what to say, when she finally looks up at him.

“Hi.” She mumbles, drawing in on herself much like Vanya used to, but with curious, hopeful eyes that are so _not_ Vanya. Her entire existence is like a paradox, looking so much like his sister at first glance but at the same time looking so different.

“What was that?” He asks bluntly, almost wincing at his tone after it leaves his mouth. He might not know how to deal with her, but one thing he does know is that he doesn’t want her to be scared of him. Eudora used to say that his entire personality was terrifying at first. He has never been good with kids. Until now, that had been fine with him. As far as he was concerned, children were bad with _him,_ not the other way around. Now he’s not too sure.

Instead of backing down, she surprises him by puffing up a bit, meeting his gaze with overly innocent eyes and a tilt of her head, “What was what?”

_Not Vanya._

He scoffs despite himself. He rolls his eyes, and even then when he looks back her expression hasn’t changed in the slightest. This kid is going to have to try harder than that. He grew up with Klaus as a brother.

“I _mean,_” He begins, irritably and definitely not at all amused, not at _all,_ shut up, “What are you doing here?”

“Makin’ you a br-bracelet”

“No, I- wait, what?” Diego wasn’t expecting that. He trips over his immediate argument and looks down at what she’s holding in her ridiculously tiny hands. It’s a collection of black and gray strings, half-formed into a complicated braid of some sort, so the colors are intertwined. She looks away from him back down to her project, deftly working with the strings with proficient ease while talking.

“I’m makin’ you a bracelet. I make br-bracelets all the time for Mom- Mommy and Gr- and Cara, and they make ‘em happy when they’re sad n’ stuff. You seemed kin-kinda angry earlier so I decided I’ma make you one first. Everyone is gonna g-get one, but you seemed like you needed one first. I hope you like the colors, they match your outfit, kind- kin- a little. I was gonna ask what your favorite colors were, but Mommy says that some-sometimes people need to be angry by themselves, so I just guessed. Sorry.”

“Oh.” is all Diego can say for a moment, not because he’s stunned, though, he just needs a minute to collect his thoughts, that’s all. It’s not because her slight stutter has him reeling back into past memories, no. He’s fine, shut up. He stands over her for another moment, with his mouth slightly open, not _gaping_ or anything, but she seems content to continue on with her work without addressing his presence. 

“Black and gray is fine. I mean. It’s very me, I guess.” He starts awkwardly, and she looks up to send him a quick smile which makes him feel weird, “But… I’m not the kind of guy that wears bracelets.”

He immediately wants to smack a hand to his face. The kid is making him something, and he has to ruin it and upset her? What the hell is wrong with him? Well, it’s not like he _needs_ her to like him, or anything, besides, he isn’t even sure if he likes _her._ But still, he’s a dumbass.

The girl looks up at him, but instead of the instant tears he was dreading, she appears to think this over with a thoughtful look on her face. Her eyes trail to the side before she brightens and snaps them to his again. 

“You got keys?” She asks, and then grimaces, “I mean, do you have ke-keys? Like a keyring?”

“Uh.. yes?” He answers, still trying to figure out where the tears are going to come into play.

“Then it can be a keychain! I can make th-those too, it’s almost the same as a bracelet.” she suggests brightly, before dimming a bit, “I mean, i-if you want. You don’t hafta-have-_have_ to take it.”

Diego feels, inexplicably, like he can’t upset this kid. That doesn’t mean he likes her, okay, it’s just that he already dodged doing it once. Doing it again would just be dumb. A keychain doesn’t sound as bad as a bracelet, anyway. “Sure kid, I’ll take a keychain.”

She perks up a bit with excitement in her eyes, nodding, before seemingly remembering to calm herself. Still, she goes back to work with a new determination guiding her fingers. 

Diego should walk away now. He should investigate that noise, find out who sent her out on lookout duty. There’s no point in getting to know the kid if he won’t see her until the next funeral. His body does not do as he asks, and stays there, staring at her. Eventually, he just gives up. He wants to know more. He settles down across from her, because craning her neck that much can’t be good for a kid. She doesn’t seem to notice apart from a quick glance up from her work, but Diego can see that she hasn’t relaxed yet. Somehow, she looks to be almost 3 quarters done with his gift. 

“You’re just going to give that to me?” He asks, not sure how to initiate a conversation.

“Mhm. It’s a present, duh. Why?” She hums, looking up from her fingers.

“Well,” He gestures around in a weirdly playful way, sort of wanting her to laugh, but not in a weird, soft way or anything, “If it were me, I’d want something in return.”

She gives him a speculative gaze, tilting her head. She chews on the side of her index finger, seemingly deep in thought. Then she catches sight of his harness. “I mean, you coul-could give me one of those knives. If you’re rea-really serious, I mean! I collect knives.” 

A certain knife with a wooden handle is burning into his back. 

The kid crinkles her nose a bit as if remembering something unpleasant, and continues, “Well, I _did,_ until Mommy found them and freaked out. She was overreacting, and I told her that, so she t-took ‘em away, which was stupid.”

“That is stupid.” He agrees, noting that Vanya disapproves of knives and that does nothing to help the urge to pull out that certain one that will not leave his thoughts. He reaches back and rubs the handle in a spot that is almost worn because of that particular habit.

“Why do you got- h-have so many, anyway?” She asks with her stupidly cute tilted head, and Diego is surprised, and suddenly angry again.

“Didn’t your mom tell you? It’s in her _book._” Diego says, not even trying to hide the bitterness in his voice. Ella- he really hopes he’s remembering right- remains unbothered, which is annoying.

“I haven’t read it.” She says simply, looking down at her strings. Diego raises his eyebrows.

“You haven’t?” His disbelief probably would have offended someone else, but Ella just hums and nods in affirmation, not looking up from her task.

“No. I’m not allowed ‘til I’m older. Which is stupid, ‘cause I can read at a- at a 7th-grade level! But Mommy says it’s a mean book that she shoul’n’a- sh-should not have written.” She replies with a scrunched nose, slowly sounding the words out to avoid mistakes, a childish bitterness coating her tone that Diego recognizes from his own. It makes him weirdly uncomfortable.

So, perfect Vanya knows how much she fucked up, huh? He’s sure that that changes things, somehow, but Diego still feels the same. Well, mostly the same. There’s this weird feeling of shame, or something, following his anger. He doesn’t like it. He spaces out for a second, trying to process it, and, more importantly, trying to figure out how to get it to go away.

“So why do you g- have so many knives?” The kid’s curious voice floats into his introspection, irritating him beyond reason. 

Instead of answering or even looking at her, he rips a knife from its spot on the harness and throws it to his left with practiced ease, a metallic _shing_ noise following it. He curves it around his body and sticks it into the wall right by Ella’s head, her hair flying back a little with a _woosh_ because of the sheer velocity of the weapon.

Diego comes back to himself, and is instantly horrified.

So much for her not being scared of him! She is staring at the knife that barely missed pinning her hair to the wall with wide eyes, and Diego knows that when she looks back at him they will be full of fear. Where the hell had that come from, dumbass? He starts to get up to find the nearest wall to slam his head into, convinced that he had already ruined what chance he had with his niece. It’s not like he _needed_ it, he reminds himself again, but still, he would’ve liked a chance, at least. His mind is a constant loop of _idiot, idiot, idiot, idiot, idiot,_ when another voice breaks through.

“_Cool!_” Ella shouts, her entire body vibrating with excitement, not fear. She turns her huge, wide brown eyes to him, and they aren’t scared at all. They’re surprised, curious, awed, amazed, and weirdly trusting, but not scared. She is oblivious to his bewildered look as she opens her mouth and questions come pouring out.

“Is that your power? Does it only work on sp-speci-cifi- special knives or any knife? Or does it work on anything? Are you really goo-good at frisbee? What about baseball? This is the coolest thing _EVER!_ Is that how you take down ba-bad guys? Can you only control where it goes, or can you control the speed too? You could knock someone out with a- with a _spoon_ that way! This is so, so, so, _so_ cool-” She cuts herself off with a soft gasp, before turning to him with eyes full of gobsmacked awe and admiration, “You’re _Batman._ You’re _BATMAN-!_”

“Uh-” Diego feels his stutter almost kick in, so he swallows, but Ella interrupts her gushing anyway and waits for him to speak, “You’re not scared?”

“No?” Ella looks as confused as he is now, “Why would I be?”

“Because I just threw a knife at your head?” Diego points out, and _no,_ his voice did not go higher or squeaky at the end there, shut up.

“You’re my Uncle, why would you hurt me?” Ella asks as if it is obvious and he is the dumb one for even questioning it, “Plus, you’re a superhero. Superheroes don’t hurt kids, duh. ‘Specially not Batman.”

Diego feels warm inside, but he’s still too confused to even process it. His niece is not what he expected her to be. Seriously, if he had to sum her up in a word, he’d say Unexpected. His throat feels like it wants to choke up for some unknown reason, but he swallows it back down.

“I guess that makes sense, but I’m not Batman.” He bows to her childish logic because he is sort of turned around right now. He sees the rising protest on her face, so he heads it off with another question, “So how do you know about us if you didn’t read Va- uh, your Mom’s book?”

_How are you so sure that you can trust me?_ Is what he’s trying to ask, even if he doesn’t know it.

“Mommy tells me stories.” She must see the way his stomach drops on his face because she hastens to add, “Good stories! At bed-bedtime and stuff. She tells me about pranks you guys used to do. That’s why I like knives, y’know, 'cause of the time where you used your knives to c-cut Aunt Allison’s skirts.”

Diego lets a smirk crawl onto his face at the memory, now feeling even more proud of the feat. He stops thinking about it quickly, though, because he has repressed the memory of being forced to wear Allison’s modified uniform to breakfast very well, and he doesn’t want all of his hard work being undone- oh, no, there it is. Diego tightens his lips into a thin line to keep from physically cringing and shivering.

In an effort to stop any more repressed memories from barging in, he asks, “And she never told you about our powers?”

He finds the sheer amount of hypocrisy, the _nerve_ that Vanya has to be astounding. Not only keeping things from her family, but her kid too?

Ella scrunches her nose up again. “She said it would give me nightmares or something.”

Diego opens his mouth, but then considers what she said, and closes it with an acknowledging tilt of his head. He can actually see the merit of that. Plus, how are you supposed to explain to a kid that one brother sees the dead, and another had tentacles? She has her hopeful eyes trained on him, probably expecting him to tell her, and no, nope, he doesn’t want to even try. He tries to quickly change the subject again.

“What about your dad? What does he think about us?” he questions, trying to at least get one of his curiosities answered. 

Ella’s mouth twists into a quick frown of disappointment that disappears as she looks back down at her project. She mutters, “I don’t have one’na those.”

“You don’t have a dad? Did he leave, or something?” Diego might be angry at his sister, but the thought of some deadbeat leaving her on her own with a child infuriates him. The anger in his chest twists into the more protective variety but also flares as his earlier thoughts come back to him. _I could’ve helped,_ the words pulsate in his chest, _I could’ve been there for the kid, but she didn’t let me._

“Oh, no.” Ella’s light answer snuffs some of his fire out with confusion that is starting to become familiar, “I just don’t have one. Mommy says I’m sp- that I’m special, so I didn’t need one to be born or anything. She says I’m her miracle that came outta nowhere.”

“Oh.” is all Diego can say, again. Half of him suspects that Vanya is bullshitting to cover up the fact that she slept around, but he honestly can’t see his sister being the type to have one-night-stands. He doesn’t want to think about that, because _ew,_ but even if she wasn’t his sister, she doesn’t seem the type. Diego struggles to identify what exactly Vanya _is_ the type to do, but it’s definitely not that.

If not that, though, then what could be the explanation? Just this conversation has Diego suspecting that nothing is as normal as it seems when it comes to his niece. He also is starting to resign to the fact that he will probably be leaving with more questions than answers.

“Yeah,” Ella hums while she braids strings, “When I was little, like- like 5 or somethin’, I tried to buy a dad at the store, but there was never one there, so I decided I didn’t need one. But now I’m grown up n’ stuff, and I know that Dads aren’t at stores.”

Diego has to fight the snort that comes with the mental image of a tiny girl going up to a tired, pimply high school student working at the store and asking if there were Dads on clearance or not. It’s sad but also hilarious. And because he was guessing that she was 5, at most, it couldn’t have been that long ago.

“Well, I guess we need to be properly introduced,” He starts, trying his best for a reassuring smile and holding out a hand for her to shake, “My name is Diego Hargreeves, I’m your uncle, and I can curve anything that I throw.”

Ella lights up at the information, and sets the keychain aside to grasp his hand with both of hers to shake it vigorously, “That’s so cool! My name is Ella Grace Hargreeves, but you can call me Ellie if ya’want, I’m 7 years old, I’m your niece, and I can-”

She stops short suddenly, almost paling a shade, and stops shaking his hand to pull away with a soft pat. She seems to curl in on herself again, picking up the keychain, bringing it behind her now raised knees and continues her task with rapid finger movements and laser-like focus.

Diego tries his best to push past the shock, pain, and surprisingly unexpected (for once) anger that rises within him at hearing her middle name. Vanya separated herself fully from her family, but has the _gall_ to name her child after their mother? _His_ mother?

He decides to swallow it down. This child can’t help her name any more than they could. _Number Two._ He focuses instead on what she almost said, which caused her to close herself off once again. He thinks he did something wrong, but he’s not sure what.

“You can do what?” He asks, feeling like he is on the edge of a breakthrough, to finding the essential puzzle piece to see the full picture of his strange niece. Said niece pauses in her movements, staring over to the side with a hesitant but thoughtful look in her eyes, chewing on the side of her cheek.

“I’ve seen’ya- seen you before, y’know.” She says quietly, looking at his eyes again. Changing the subject, much like he did earlier. She’s clever, for a kid, he has to admit. He would’ve either hated her or loved her if she had been around when he was growing up.

She ducks her head back down to her fingers, resuming her machinations. As much as he wants to push, to find out what she meant to say, he doesn’t. He lets her have this one, even if he’s not sure why.

(It’s because he’s starting to like her, but don’t tell him that. He’ll be mean and nasty to you because you’re right.)

“... at the boxing match?” he hedges, watching as she snaps back up to look at him, eyes full of surprise and glee, her strings abandoned again for a moment.

“You saw me?” She squeaks in a high pitched voice filled with both disbelief and hope.

“You were kinda hard to miss,” he answers the buzzing girl, “Why were you there?”

At this, she glances away with a guilty half-smile on her face. “It’s kinda a long story.”

He shrugs, leaning back on his hands. “Tell it.”

She straightens her posture, relaxing more than she has the entire conversation, and she does. She tells him how she is in a gymnastics class, the best in her gymnastics class, in fact, and then tells him about Morgan and her insult.

“She… she called me a fr-freak because I was too g-good.” Ella- or Ellie, he guesses- admits, quieter than the rest of her story, “Mommy said she was just jeal-jealous of me, ‘cause I’m sp-special.”

“She sounds jealous,” Diego is surprised at the flash of protective fury he feels for this child, “Yeah, she sounds like a bitc- uh, a bit of a jerk, but what does this have to do with the boxing match?”

“Well, I’m _getting there,_” She says irritatedly, scolding him for his impatience in a way that somehow reminds him unsettlingly of Eudora. It causes a small smile to sneak onto his face. Ella continues, her bravado fading once again, “After that… my wo-words wouldn’t come outright. They still don’t when I’m nervous or upset and stuff. Mommy says it’s called a stut-stutt-stu-”

Ella cuts herself off with a scrunched nose, flared nostrils, and pinched lips. He knows that face well. She eventually just lets it go with a sigh, looking dejected. She mutters, “Y’know what I mean.”

That flash of anger has nothing on the waves of molten lava sloshing around inside him now. He knows what it’s like to have your words fail you, to not be able to communicate without pitying stares and impatient glares. The thought that some brat did this to his niece boils him up on the inside.

He tries to keep it from showing on his face, painting on a mischievous look instead. He crosses his legs and leans in conspiratorially. He hushes his voice and says, “You wanna know a secret?”

Ella perks up curiously, interested, and nods, leaning in closer to hear what he has to say.

He brings his hand up to his mouth like he’s about to tell one of Allison’s rumors, and then stage whispers, “I used to have a stutter too.”

Her brown eyes are impossibly wide, taking up most of the space on her face along with her agape mouth, which had practically hit the floor in shock. She mouths words silently for a moment as he leans back before language comes back to her.

“But- but- but-” She splutters incomprehensibly, looking at him with disbelief and a little tinge of hope, “But- you’re _cool!_”

He shrugs, opening his arms in a _what are ya gonna do_ gesture, “Wasn’t always this awesome, but I made it in the end.”

She’s still staring at him with those bulging, gold-tinted eyes. “But- wha- how-?”

“You just have to work at it, and it’ll get better. I have a few tricks up my sleeve.” He shrugs again, but that does nothing to stop her incredulous gaze. He chuckles a little, “I’ll tell you later. What happened next?”

It takes Ella- Ellie?- a minute to refocus, but once she does, she continues her story with aplomb. She tells him about a week or so that she spent upset until her Mom finally caught on and asked what was wrong. Diego thinks she might be leaving something out, especially the specific activity that she “worked really hard on,” but her next statement is full of more questions than that one.

“The next day, Cara suggested we go to your boxing tournament to cheer me up. I _really_ wanted to go, so Mommy agreed even though she didn’t think it was a good idea at all. She was really nervous, I think. So we went to the store-”

“Wait, wait, hold on.” He interrupts, holding up a hand to stop her. She pauses with visible effort and waits for him to continue. He’s not sure which of the many questions involving Vanya is okay to ask a child about their mother, so he latches onto the first part, “Who’s Cara? You mentioned her before.”

Ella lights up, obviously happy to talk about this person she seems familiar with, “Oh! She’s Mommy’s friend, Mommy’s _best_ friend. She’s kinda old, but not super wrinkly like _really_ old people. Mommy says that they met on the day I was born! She’s always around, and she comes to almost all of my gym practices, even if they’re boring! And she teaches me stuff, so I don’t have to go to a stupid regular school. I call her Gramma Cara, even though she’s not my real Grandma. That’s why she’s Gram-ma and your Mommy is Grand-ma. There’s a difference, see?” 

Diego nods, biting his lip. Vanya found a family in a complete stranger rather than her actual family? She would rather her daughter be familiar with this strange woman instead of them? She trusted this woman enough to dedicate her shitpile of a book to her, but doesn’t trust them enough to have anything to do with her life?

Perhaps it was the sudden influx of bitterness, of anger, and of helpless confusion that causes Diego to disregard constraint and snap out through gritted teeth, “Why didn’t she want you to see me?”

Ella jumps ever so slightly at his tone and volume, furrowing her eyebrows and tilting her head minutely. Her body leans back from his subconsciously, her wide eyes staring at him with a mixture of confusion, hesitation, and a little hurt. Diego takes in her expression and the way she has tensed up again, and sighs. He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath through his nose, and works on unclenching his jaw. There is a whisper of the word _idiot_ that skirts across his mind, and yes, he knows that, thank you. 

Once suitably calmed down, he looks at her earnestly, apologetically, and corrects, “I meant your mom. Why was she nervous? Why did she keep you from us?”

Ella relaxes a little bit as if sensing the danger has passed, and doesn’t that make him feel like a piece of shit? Something is clearly troubling her, though, as she stares off to the side, her forehead creased and her teeth biting at the inside of her bottom lip. He lets her think, willing to be patient for a good answer.

Finally, she opens her mouth but does not meet his eyes, lowering them to the floor instead. She mumbles, “It’s the rules.”

That is not the answer Diego needed. 

“The rules? What rules? Whose rules?” He questions, trying not to notice the way she closes in on herself more and more with every word. The side of her index finger finds its way to her mouth and the skin gets chewed on.

“Mommy’s rules, to keep us safe. To keep _me_ safe.” She answers anyway around her finger, still not looking at him. Her voice is quiet and reluctant as she continues, “It wasn’t safe to see you then, it wasn’t safe yet.”

“Vanya didn’t think I was safe enough for you?” Diego asks, trying very hard to keep his anger under wraps. Just what did his sister think of him?

“Not _you,_” Ella says, rolling her eyes like it was obvious, “The bad man. The mean man. My Grandpa, but Mommy says he doesn’t deserve to be called that. Mommy said that if he found out about me, he would take me away. He would take me away from Mommy and Cara and never let me out.”

Diego feels a chill down his spine. _Their father._ Of course. He’s not sure why Vanya was so scared of him taking her child away, but the understanding commiseration hits him all the same. He even gains some satisfaction from hearing Vanya’s obvious disdain for the man, refusing to let her daughter even associate him with family. He doesn’t want it. He doesn’t want to understand that traitor, he doesn’t want to agree with why she did what she did. He pulls anger out to cover it up with the thought that Vanya hid her child from him because she thought he would tell Dad. Who did she think he was? Why would she think he would do that to anyone, let alone his own niece? He’s not a tattle-tale. He’s not fucking _Luther._

“She thought that the mean man was watching you, all of you, and she was scared there was a chance that he could find out about me if we got too close.” Ella continues to explain, effectively reading his mind. The nail bed of her index finger is starting to turn red from the anxious chewing.

Oh. His anger is quenched with that shaky understanding again, but Diego still doesn’t like it. He desperately tries to stay angry at Vanya for now, but all he can manage to grasp is anger for the sake of being angry. That’s fine, he’s run on less than that before.

“Why would our Dad take you-” Diego starts, but Ella has apparently had enough of the questioning.

“Because- I can’t tell you, okay? Mommy said she would explain it to you all.” She bursts out, looking increasingly frazzled and upset, “Can I just tell my story, please?”

Diego, despite really wanting to figure this out now, feels really guilty at how close Ella’s eyes look to watering. Trying to avoid her tears, Diego nods and mutters an appropriately chagrined apology. Ellie looks happy enough to finally be back in “control,” and the tension that had built up on her shoulders melts off. She takes a steadying breath much like Diego’s and then settles herself back in her storytelling element. She continues her tale, but Diego still feels a bit of shame about his intensity.

She tells him enthusiastically about their shopping trip for “spy clothes” in greater detail than Diego needed or wanted, but he nods along and reacts appropriately, to her delight. She gets a bit sidetracked, telling him how they looked just like they were in one of Allison’s spy movies that he never bothered to watch, but Ellie definitely had, she watched them all _four times,_ a fact which she tells him multiple times with pride. He barely survives that part without rolling his eyes. He keeps his child-induced irritation under control, not wanting to scare her off again. It’s still a close call.

Then when they get to the boxing match part of the story, the girl seems to light up even more than was possible, sitting on her hands for some odd reason. She starts telling him excitedly about how she climbed onto Cara’s shoulders so she could see everything. She then runs through the moves that she saw him do, which includes very passionate physical demonstrations. He names them off as she shows him, and even dares to correct her once, teaching her how to deliver a better punch with a certain move. She is nearly overflowing with glee at the prospect of her Uncle Diego actually teaching her how to fight, but Diego doesn’t know that fact, and just kinda assumes that she is a violent child. That’s fine with him, honestly, if not a little confusing, since _Vanya_ is her mother. He notes out loud that she is pretty good at the moves for someone who doesn’t box, and she cheerfully tells him that she practices them when she’s alone sometimes.

“Anyway, that’s when I got too excited and yelled your name,” Ellie finishes after displaying a duck-and-punch move with particular reverence, “I’m really sorry I distracted you! If I hadn’t done that, you probably would have won, ‘cause obviously, you’re the best one there. And I wouldn’t have gotten in trouble.”

“It’s okay, you have to lose some to win some. And... I’m glad you came, anyway.” Diego replies awkwardly, feeling both warm and squirmy inside at how sure Ellie is that he was the best. She gives him a beaming smile that intensifies the uncomfortable warmness, so he quickly asks, “You said you got in trouble? Is your Mom ever mean to you?”

He’s not _concerned,_ okay, but if he has to have a niece living this close to him, he needs to be sure she’s being treated well, alright? Vanya needs to be kept in check, and if he’s the one who has to do it, so be it. 

(He doesn’t like- okay, maybe he likes her, but he’s not _soft,_ okay? He can leave that mushy-gushy shit to Klaus and Allison. Ellie needs someone in her corner to protect her, too, and _Luther_ sure as hell isn’t going to do it right. So, obviously, it’s gotta be him, right? He’s not soft, shut your mouth- just, shut it, okay?)

“Yeah, I got in a little trouble for not being careful, _again,_ but she wasn’t mad or anything. She was just kinda… like… disappointed? Which is somehow worse than yelling, even though Mommy almost never yells.” She answers, and then takes a moment to think about his second question before saying, “Well, she was kinda mean this morning.”

Diego is already mulling over what that ominous “again” could mean, and is sort of surprised that his question actually might get him some dirt on his sister. He asks curiously, “How was she mean?”

“She didn’t let me wear my light-up shoes _or_ my neon zebra-stripe shirt!” Ella answers with a furious scowl, “She said it wasn’t what to wear to a funeral.”

Oh. Well, it looks like Vanya’s not abusive, and she’s a good parent, to boot. That makes up for a little of the shit she’s done. A _little._ He’s still pissed.

“Oh. That sucks.” He says, a little flatly, but Ella doesn’t notice as she agrees vehemently. They sit in silence for a moment. Ellie fishes a few small things out of her backpack, presumably to use on the keychain that she had been working on while telling the story. Diego didn’t even notice her doing it. The project looks almost done. 

“What happened to Megan- or Morgan, whatever- that bully?” He asks to break the silence, grasping onto the only loose end of the story that he can think of. The only loose end that is relatively safe to ask about, anyway.

Ella pauses her movements, meeting his eye with that strange guilty-but-proud half-grin again, “Well, y’know that duck and punch move that I liked?”

Diego kinda loves where this is going. One side of his lips turn up, “Yes…?”

She ducks away from his eyes for a moment, shifting guiltily, but with a wicked smile on her face, “Well... I practiced that one a lot. Anyway, I went up to Morgan at the next gym practice and told her that she was just a jealous buttface, but I stuttered, ‘cause I used to be worse at words. She started to make fun of me for it, and I got really angry. She tried to push me away, but I ducked and then punched her in the nose. I almost broke it. And then, when she fell down, I yelled _‘My Uncle Diego taught me that, stupid!’_ It was _aweso-_” 

She stops herself, her wide eyes darting up to his face as if just remembering that Diego is, in fact, an adult, “er, a really bad thing for me to do. Shouldn’t’ve… uh, done that, y’know.”

Diego fucking _approves._ He feels a flare of fierce pride akin to when Eudora graduated the academy, only this time it is not tarnished by the feelings of a bad breakup. He allows a full smile to spread across his face, “Good job, kid. She deserved it.”

She smiles brightly at the approval, only to whine out protest when he ruffles her hair a bit, an action which surprises even himself. She’s still smiling, though, as she fixes it and returns to the keychain. She slips one of the things she got from her backpack into the top of it, a shiny keychain loop, and then ties it off with finality.

“It’s done! Here, it’s yours now. It’s a four-strand round braid, but it’s a bit messy because I put the loop last, sorry.” She informs him, pushing the little object into his hands without waiting for him to reach out for it. He fumbles for a moment before holding it out to look at it properly.

It’s about 3 inches long, not including the loop on the top. The black and gray strings cross each other and together make a triangle-like design, with black being the prominent color for the background with a few hints of gray. Likewise, the triangles are mostly dark gray with smatterings of black within them. It’s not too tacky or flashy, and he would honestly buy it at a store if he was into this sort of thing. The finishing touch is at the top, near the loop. 

Separated from said loop with a few layers of string is a cube-shaped letter bead, like the ones usually used to make friendship bracelets and the like. Diego can see a few of them on the lone green bracelet Ella is sporting now, but he can’t see what it spells. The bead is gray, lighter than the rest of the keychain, while the letter reads “D” in black ink. It doesn’t look messy at all to his untrained eye.

“Thanks, kid. It looks good.” He says to her, and she breaks out into a happy smile, obviously proud to receive his praise. He twists to grab his very full keyring, “Here, I’ll even slip it on now.”

As he turns, he’s reminded of the specific knife at his back. It returns to the forefront of his mind as he exaggerates putting the keychain on for Ella’s amusement. Her pleased smile doesn’t help his internal debate.

That knife is special to him. It’s weirdly special, given that it didn’t actually belong to the person it reminds him of. It was purchased too early as a birthday gift, only to remain ungiven due to a nasty breakup before the actual birthday. Eudora didn’t even know that he bought it, but he still keeps it. He still touches it for reassurance, as if it is a genie lamp and she will somehow appear before him, wanting to fix everything that went wrong. So even though it was never actually Eudora’s knife, he can’t help thinking of it as _Eudora’s Knife._ He’s pretty sure that she wouldn’t have even liked it. He always sucked at gift-giving.

But right now, staring at Ella’s happy smile, he wants to give it away. The thought is almost ridiculous to him; give _Eudora’s Knife_ to someone who is very much _not Eudora_? But even though it was personalized for her, he thinks that it will be appreciated properly with someone else. This someone else, to be specific. This little girl would look at this knife and not feel sadness for a love long dead, or anger at a relationship turned sour. Most likely, she would love the knife, because she understands the fundamental fact that knives are fucking cool. That’s something many people fail to realize. Also, it would annoy the shit out of Vanya.

So that’s why he shakes away his hesitance and carefully pulls it out. Ella’s eyes go wide as she rakes them over the weapon with hushed awe and excitement. It makes him feel better because she definitely _gets it._

It’s a simple pocket knife. It even folds, not that he ever does that. He prefers his knives at the ready, even if he doesn’t actually use this one. The blade is stainless steel and straight like most conventional knives, as opposed to the darker, curved knives that he uses. It’s 3 inches, 3.25 inches to be exact, which he remembers from when he bought it. It could easily be used to cut things, carve wood, and stab people, y’know, the usual stuff. The blade isn’t the important part, though. 

The handle is oak wood and about as long as the blade itself, with a slit along the side for the blade to fold in. He hasn’t really looked at the knife in a long while, and he can now see the wear at the bottom from his rubbing habit, like a smudge on the overall pristineness of the handle. There’s a bit less shine in that spot. But the reason this is _Eudora’s Knife_ is the engraving. The knife originally came with rabbits on it if there were no custom requests, and Diego thought it would have been hilarious to see her face if she saw that. So he asked the guy to leave one towards the bottom, a bunny in a mid-jump position. She probably would’ve hated it unironically and given him a _look._ He misses getting those _looks._ The actual present part is towards the top, where a very elegant cursive E is carved. The E is darker than the rest of the handle, making it stand out, as it should. He runs his fingers over it as he prepares to part with it.

“This knife is a really special knife,” He tells Ella, who listens with rapt attention even though she is visibly struggling to look at him and not stare at the knife, “It even folds. Look, come try it.”

He shows her how to fold it up and disengage the lock multiple times before letting her try it. It doesn’t leave his hand, and Ella keeps her touches light and careful, as if the knife is a newborn baby she is afraid to break. She keeps the look of wonder the entire time, jerking her hands back to her chest and giggling the first time she manages to make it pop out. She seems to be fixated on the engraved E.

“Now, I was gonna give this to someone else, but… uh, they didn’t like knives.” He excuses lamely, not really wanting a 7-year-old to judge his breakup.

Ellie scrunches her entire face up this time in an adorab- er, cute look of utter disgust, “Who doesn’t like knives?”

“I know, right?” He chuckles, feeling better about this choice by the second, “So, since you gave me a present, I- uh, I think this would better belong to you.”

He holds it out to her, but she seems frozen, staring between him and the knife in what he thinks is hopeful disbelief.

“Really? Ar- Are you sure?” She asks quietly, but Diego can see her fingers starting to twitch in repressed movement, so he’s sure she’s barely keeping herself from grabbing it. _Nice one on the manners, Vanya,_ he thinks unintentionally, and then quickly adds on, _but still, fuck you._

“Yeah, as long as you promise to take really good care of it,” he says, just wanting to make sure it’s taken care of, and then he thinks of Vanya, and adds, “And… probably don’t tell your mom about it.”

“I promise, for both of those things. Like, _super_ promise. That’s like a pinky promise times a thousand.” She tells him with a resolute nod that has him believing her at her word. So he nods to the object in his hand and holds it out farther. 

"Here, go nuts, kid."

She carefully takes it with shaky hands. Very tiny hands. 

It suddenly occurs to Diego that he’s giving a 7-year-old a knife, and that probably isn’t a good thing for him to do as an adult. He shrugs internally. It’s too late now. Plus, he was playing with knives since before he could talk, so she should be fine.

Vanya probably won’t see it that way, but what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her, right? Plus, this is a kind of karma, in a way. 

Diego will be telling himself that a lot.

Ella sits there in quiet reverence, examining every inch of the knife with her eyes and her fingers. She flips it open and closed many times, studying the way it works intently. Her fingers brush every crevice and designed line there is to feel. He kind of gets why she is idolizing every aspect of it; after all, he remembers when he got his own favorite knife. Even though he had seen and used knives before, that particular one was always somehow different. He remembers being really upset when Dad took it away.

After a few moments of silent awe, Ellie speaks, sounding weirdly choked up for a 7-year-old and running her fingertips over the fancy engraved E. She doesn’t meet his eyes, hers being stuck on the gift in her hands.

“It says E,” she states, smiling but also sounding teary, which sends Diego into confused alarm, “Like me. I’m E, too.”

“...Yeah, it does,” Diego agrees carefully, somehow feeling like he’s on the cusp of a confusing Eudora fight again, “Is there something wrong?”

Ellie begins to shake her head furiously, looking up at him with wet eyes that sets off his ‘_FUCK, SHE’S CRYING_’ panic alarm within his head. But then she says, “No! No, no, no, it’s so perfect! It’s the most perfect thing ever! This is the best present I ever got!”

Before he can fully calm himself down with the knowledge that she somehow isn’t truly upset even though she’s crying, Ella sets the knife aside carefully with a gentleness that is not even at all necessary. Then she pounces at him and attacks him with a hug. 

He almost snaps into a protective stance because of how sudden it is, to him, anyway. Her tiny arms wrap around his neck and she’s practically hanging off of him, sobbing “Thank you thank you thank you thank you” into his ear so many times that it becomes nonsensical blubber. Slowly, hesitantly, his arms come up to hold the really ridiculously tiny body against him. His chest sparks with something warm that isn’t anger, so it makes him uncomfortable, but somehow it also makes him feel… something else. Something else that isn’t bad, but quite uncomfortably pleasant. 

It feels like one Halloween when they were kids, young kids. He and Klaus snuck out onto the fire escape past curfew and snacked on pilfered candy that he still isn’t sure how Klaus got even to this day. They talked, laughed, and ate for hours, all the while Diego could practically hear his father scolding him in his head. Yelling at him, telling him how they were not normal children, and as such, had no time for frivolous festivities such as trick or treating. Thus, while Diego thoroughly enjoyed the time with his brother on the fire escape, he could not shake the feeling that he was not supposed to like it. He wasn’t allowed to. When he woke up with a stomach ache the next morning, he felt like he deserved it, like he was paying the price for having fun.

That’s what this feels like. Pleasant; but guilty for enjoying the pleasantness. He can’t seem to get one without the other, so he both loves and hates this feeling, this unexpected hug. There’s a strange prickling sensation on the back of his neck, and he hopes that she isn’t… _leaking_ on him.

(The truth is that Ellie is having trouble controlling her sparks. Her hands tingle with the endeavor of keeping them away, the energy building up in response to her emotional moment. Despite her best efforts, a few flicker into being, slowly starting to graze her knuckles. She tries her best to extinguish them, but it’s hard. The energy inside her that she’s been holding since the morning is like the drawstring of a bow, and every time she gets excited or emotional, it pulls tighter, ready to let an arrow fly. She disguises her effort as burying her face into her uncle’s shoulder, which isn’t that difficult to fake, because she’s still overjoyed and overwhelmed with happy tears. She flexes her fingers a few times, trying to relax the bowstring in her chest. It is not at ease, but it is less tense as it was before. Eventually, the sparks vanish, blinking away from her fingers. She glances at her hands one last time to make sure that her skin is not luminescent from the energy being held under it, which has been known to happen. They’re not, and she’s proud of herself.)

Ella pulls back, wiping away her tears with her sleeve, along with her snot, which is disgusting. After a bit of quiet sniffling, she mumbles just loud enough to understand, “Sorry, Uncle Diego.”

Burst of uncomfy warmth, “It’s okay, kiddo. No worries.”

She doesn’t look reassured by his words, looking guilty for her outburst. Diego really doesn’t want her to think that emotions aren’t okay like he was taught. Even if he doesn’t get them, he knows emotions are important for kids to express.

Diego really doesn’t know what makes him say it. By the time the words come out of his mouth, he regrets them, regrets giving the little girl hope for something that will never happen.

“Hey, now that we’ve met, maybe I can come over and teach you how to use it? And some boxing moves, of course.”

She perks up, the guilt completely wiped from her face as easily as her tears, and in its place is a bright hope that kind of crushes his insides a little bit, “Really? You mean it?”

“We’ll see, kid.” He says, hoping that she will understand that it’s not likely, because ‘We’ll see’ is usually another way of saying no. Every kid knows that, right? Either way, he ruffles her hair once again, messing it up even more this time. He receives a glare that is slightly ruined by giggles.

Unbeknownst to Diego, Ella is part of a few kids who have had very good luck with ‘we’ll see.’ Her puppy eyes almost always work, and she knows how to play her Mommy and her Gramma to get what she wants, even if she doesn’t do it often. The point is, she knows she can, if she wanted to. Therefore, Ella Grace Hargreeves is feeling very optimistic about her chances of getting boxing and knife lessons. She expresses this by reaching up as high as she can and ruffling her Uncle Diego’s hair back and then giggling along with his chuckles when she realizes it does absolutely nothing.

She honestly thinks this has gone really well. She even got the best knife ever out of the deal, just for her!

* * *

Vanya Hargreeves is fucking tired.

After hearing Ella’s signal, she hurriedly shifts everything back to where it belongs, more or less, cursing quietly and no doubt making way too much noise. Once everything is back in order, excluding a nice, somewhat dusty, very expensive looking bottle of Cognac which she shoves into her purse, she ambles over to the couch and flops onto it, her legs flying up into the air before bouncing down onto the cushions with the rest of her body. She slowly takes another hit of the E-Cig, which she had been puffing away at as she searched, and lets her arm fall down beside her heavily. She holds the vapor in her lungs for a moment before releasing it into the air with a sigh, feeling her body relax a bit now that she no longer feels like she’s going to get caught. She sluggishly thanks her past self for cleaning out her purse, because the bottle wouldn’t have fit otherwise. 

Vanya lazily brings the device up to her mouth to take yet another pull, desperately trying to keep her eyes open. She’s starting to feel dizzy, in a good way, but also sick, in a bad way. Her face is buzzing and she can feel everything and nothing at the same time. As she lets the vapor swirl away from her, she shakily brings the tube up to eye level, wondering if she should maybe stop.

(_Yeah, you should,_ Seven’s muffled voice says, _That’s bad for your lungs._)

Vanya takes another small drag just to metaphorically flip the girl off. She regrets it immediately after, since that was the one to finally push her nausea over the edge. Her stomach rolling, she sets the tube on the ground behind her purse, deciding to lay off of it for a while. She ignores Seven’s obnoxious I told you so’s.

Staring at the ceiling with her jittery hands crossed on her stomach, not unlike a corpse, Vanya tries to think about her plan for the afternoon, if she even has one. But her worries seem strangely out of reach. It’s not like her pills, where she feels nothing, but it’s like she’s able to ignore her emotions while feeling them. She likes it, even if she can’t decide whether it’s the sleep deprivation, nicotine, or a mixture of both. All she can deign herself to really feel right now is the rapid beating of her heart. The nicotine sped it up, she knows, and the rush to hide her theft didn’t help. It’s somewhat uncomfortable, but she also loves it. She loves being able to feel it thump against her chest, reminding her that she really is alive.

Because, despite everything good she has, she still sometimes feels like she is dead.

Vanya has no idea when her heavy eyelids slid closed, but she does not bother to open them. Instead, she listens. She can hear indistinct talking outside, but it doesn’t sound hostile, so she can’t bring herself to drag her body off the couch. Reaching further, she can hear the thumping gait that must belong to Luther, since he was always heavy-footed. There’s the clickity-click of Allison’s heels, coming from near the same room as Luther’s pounding. And finally, there’s the fumbling, lopsided, un-rhythmic stumble that cannot be attributed to anyone other than Klaus. He’s staggering quickly through the hallways, and Vanya assumes he’s headed toward the hallway of bedrooms based on the direction his footsteps are sounding from. Probably to use the fire escape. Good for him, she kinda wishes she could ditch too. With some very groggy and slow process of elimination, Vanya determines that leaves Diego outside. Wait, there were two voices. Which means he’s talking to Ella. Ella…

Ella once said that Vanya’s hearing was superpowered (Specifically, “Bat-hearing”) after Vanya announced that Cara was in their apartment before they even finished climbing the stairs because according to her, no one’s hearing can be that good… Vanya waved her off by guessing that it was due to a lifetime of violin... it was a Violinist’s ear, she claimed. That might have been part of it… but Vanya personally thinks that her sudden bouts of above-average hearing are because of Ella. Because of the long nights spent by her crib…. Listening to her breathing… watching her tiny chest move up and down.... The discovery of SIDS, or Sudden Infant Death Syndrome, hit Vanya hard, to say the least. Sometimes, when she can’t sleep, she still quietly sneaks into Ella’s room to listen to her breathe…. Just to reassure herself that her baby’s okay…. Sometimes, she thinks she can even hear it from her own room……. Lulling her to sleep……..

Her thoughts are floating across her mind, as heavy as her tired limbs. Surely…. A tiny power-nap will be fine…No, but she ... shouldn't ...But she’s so...tired….. Okay….. Though she should probably…… check on…... Ella……

She slips into blackness before she can even finish her trailing thought. There are no dreams, besides the eerie feeling of reasonless dread, guilt, and shame.

Vanya is dragged out of the void by a voice, much closer than it was before.

“-forgets to eat and sleep sometimes. She barely ate breakfast at all today, an’ I don’t think she slept much.”

“Well then, maybe we shouldn’t- Hey, no, kid- No-!”

Vanya can barely make sense of what is being said, much less of who is there. A tiny fist knocks on her forehead as if it is a door. It resonates in her skull painfully, and she furrows her eyebrows minutely against it.

“Hello? ‘Tis I, Fairy Princess Super-Spy Ellie!” the voice of her beloved but currently tactless daughter rings through her head like a very shrill note on the violin. Still, she plays along.

“You dare disturb my slumber?” Vanya asks in a rumbly voice without opening her eyes, not having to fake the tiredness that seeps through. She raises one eyebrow, eyes still closed, and is bestowed a few quickly controlled giggles for her efforts.

“Yes, I dare!” Ella replies with exaggerated, and _loud,_ bravado. Vanya can hear the tittering she’s suppressing, and can imagine the pose she’s striking: chest puffed out, chin up, and her hands on her hips like a superhero with their cape behind them. Vanya grumbles out a _hmmm_ and pinches her face like she’s seriously considering something.

“Well, I guess I must awaken to greet thee, the one who is brave enough to face me,” Vanya says in a faux-resigned tone, slowly blinking her crusty, blurry eyes open to meet Ella’s smiling face and laughing eyes.

And Diego. Who is standing in the background, arms crossed, with one eyebrow slowly climbing to his hairline.

Oh, Jesus fuck. Shit. Fuck her life.

Vanya immediately jerks her body into a sitting position, her face burning and probably flushing with embarrassment. She refuses to meet his eye or even look in his general direction, so instead, she looks to Ella. The girl doesn’t even seem to notice her predicament, which isn’t surprising, because, in her mind, Family equates to unconditional Love. As it should be, but not as it is. Her girl clambers onto her lap and gives her a cuddly hug, even though she’s almost too big to keep doing that. Vanya closes her eyes and smiles while she soaks it in, temporarily not giving a shit about who else is watching. It doesn’t last more than a moment when Vanya accidentally glances up and almost meets Diego’s eyes. So she pulls back from Ella and tries to smile warmly.

“Hey, silly girl. I see you-” Vanya winces when her voice cracks, but quickly clears her throat and tries again, “I see you met your Uncle Diego again.”

Ella looks excited and is bouncy as she slides onto the seat to the left of her mother, “Yeah! We talked!”

Vanya nervously darts her eyes to Diego, only to find him staring at her, which turns into a glare when she quickly looks away, “Wh- What did you talk about?”

“Stuff.” Ellie answers vaguely, making Vanya want to rip her hair out, “Made him a br- keychain.”

“Oh? Is that what you were working on earlier?” Vanya asks, trying very hard to be interested, and Ellie nods in lieu of answering, “Was it a good one?”

“Uncle Diego said it was. Right?” Ella turns back to him as if to get his opinion on the matter. Diego looks like he really doesn’t want to talk. He probably wants to yell, instead. Specifically at Vanya.

“Uh- yep.” He answers shortly, even trying to smile at Ellie, but it comes out as tightly pursed lips with the corners almost tipped up. This doesn’t seem to bother her, as she returns it with a full-blown smile. It surprises Vanya, who didn’t expect him to entertain Ella’s questioning at all. It makes her wonder how their “talk” went if it didn’t end in tears like she thought it did. She only looks in his direction, not at his face.

“Hm,” Vanya hums in reply, feeling tight and awkward, “That’s good.”

Diego grunts in response, now looking around the room instead of at her, his arms still crossed. That’s honestly the best-case scenario when it comes to him, so Vanya doesn’t say anything else, just returns her gaze to Ella. 

“Yeah, and I told him about- about the boxing match, and about Morgan, and about my boxing moves!” Ella tells her excitedly, jumping on the cushion along with her words. She throws punches into the air, showing her mother what she’s talking about. Vanya’s chest clenches tighter while she is jostled by the movements.

“O-Oh. That’s cool.” Vanya says, avoiding Diego’s presence as much as she can, which is… not much.

“Yeah,” Diego more or less grits out, making Vanya flinch a little at his hard tone. He finally moves from his statue-like state, making his way to a chair by the fireplace and sitting down, still facing Vanya and Ella as he does, “It’s very _cool,_ Vanya. Your kid is tougher than you’ve ever been.”

Vanya thinks that’s an insult. No, Vanya is _sure_ that’s an insult, but it only seems to be aimed at her, which is something she can handle. If he had included Ella, then there would’ve been a problem. But, strangely, he seems to be almost _complimenting_ her daughter. She doesn’t feel like interpreting that. Instead, she straightens and looks at him directly in the eyes for the first time, lets the ice within her harden, and says tersely, “I am well aware.”

Diego pauses for a moment before giving a little derisive _tsk_ and turning away to look at the fire.

“Mommy,” Ella interrupts their weird moment without noticing it, tugging on her mother’s sleeve to get her attention. Vanya turns to her, and Ellie immediately starts her sales pitch, “Can I go look around? I know you don’t want me to, but I’ve already looked around here, and this place is so _big,_ there’s so many possibilities! I promise I’ll be careful, an’ I won’t let anyone see me, an’ I won’t get lost, I just wanna see _everything._ Please? I don’t know if I’ll get the chance later. Please, Mommy? Pleeeease?”

Ella is turning the puppy eyes on, but not quite full force yet. Vanya really doesn’t want to let her go. She doesn’t want her to get lost, or hurt, or found by one of the two people who won’t know who she is. Luther might even try and throw her out. But most of all, above everything else, Vanya does not want to be left alone with Diego.

(But on the other hand, Seven does not want to go upstairs, deeper into this house of horrors. The upstairs has worse memories, it has the wardrobes that have very effective locks on the outside, it has the irrational and suffocating fear, it has the rocking herself and humming desperately to keep away the silence, it has the snapping her fingers next to her ears frantically to hear _something,_ it has the hours and hours and hours, it has the _Please, Dad, let me out, I promise I won’t ever forget to take them ever again! I promise, I promise, I’m sorry, please let me out, Dad! Please! Let me out of here, please Dad! Let me go! Please-!_

Vanya shoves Seven away while slamming her hands over her ears, humming loudly inside her mind to keep the memories away. When it passes, she glares at Seven venomously with so much murderous intent that Seven whimpers and curls into a ball. Vanya rolls her eyes. Weak.)

Diego is now glancing curiously at them, (and trying very hard to make it seem like he is not) waiting for what she will say. Staring at her, judging her. She can almost imagine what he’s thinking. _What sort of mother are you? Controlling, like Dad? You can’t do anything right, and this is no exception._

(Diego’s actual thoughts are more along the lines of angry grumbling and confused sympathetic feelings, which results in more angry, frustrated grumbling. He may feel a bit smug towards Vanya’s struggles, but nowhere near as much as Vanya thinks. She doesn’t know this, of course.)

So Vanya says, “Don’t touch anything-”

She hasn’t even made so much as the first syllable when Ella starts in on her celebratory happy dance, hissing _YES! Yes! Yes!!!_ Under her breath victoriously. Vanya snaps her fingers in front of her eyes with a _hey, hey, hey_ to get her to focus on what she’s saying.

“Don’t touch anything, don’t talk to anyone, and don’t stay away for that long. Come back if you hear me calling for you. If I have to search you out, no TV at Cara’s for the next 3 days, got it?” Vanya lists out firmly, making sure that Ellie’s eyes are on her and that she’s following along. Ella nods, and Vanya asks just to make sure, “Now, what did I just say?”

“No touching, no talking, not too long, come back if I hear you, if I don’t, cruel and unusual punishment.” Ellie chirps back happily, and Vanya hears Diego behind her try and stifle the snort that he let out. That does nothing to lessen the cheeky smirk that Ella’s wearing. If anything, it grows. 

“Turkey,” Vanya scolds fondly, therefore nullifying the raised eyebrow unintentionally, “Seriously, do you understand?”

“Yeah, I do. Pinky Promise.” Ella answers with her words slightly clipped out of excitement rather than anger. She holds her pinky out, and Vanya wraps her own around it while keeping eye contact, trying to sense deceit. She sees none.

“Fine, go on, then, Goofbucket.” Vanya finally allows, pushing Ellie off the couch with a hand on her back. Ella plants an excited kiss on her mother’s cheek before dashing away, leaving her backpack on the floor near Vanya's purse. Vanya allows herself a smile as she hears the pitter-patter of Ellie’s footsteps get farther away.

(Vanya doesn’t notice the bugle of a folded up knife sticking out from her waistband, hidden by her flared shirt. Ella places a hand on it and smiles lightly.)

And then it’s silent.

It’s not comfortable. It is perhaps the ultimate opposite of that. It is tense, as if there is a coiled spring in the air, taught and ready to release its tension. She isn’t sure what Diego feels, but that’s what’s happening inside her chest, along with her flip-flopping stomach and dry throat and mouth. She tries to ignore it, not wanting to get into it now, and forces herself to relax and lay back as she was when Ella woke her. She fumbles while reaching for the E-cig, feeling Diego’s eyes burning into her with every twitch she makes. And then there’s a moment of pause before she brings it to her mouth. She feels the spring tighten for the last time before it’s breaking point.

Then she hears Diego take in a breath to speak, and prepares herself to be screamed at.

But then he says, “Fairy Princess Super-Spy, huh?” with a forced lightness that Vanya doesn’t expect. It’s almost worse than immediate screaming because now she doesn’t know when it’s coming. She tries picturing water rolling off of a turtle’s back when she speaks.

“She rightfully earned those titles over many days of playing pretend.” She informs him without looking back, taking a lazy drag of the E-cig. If he wants to play it like this, she can do it too. She makes herself focus on the lit-up tip of the cigarette while she tries to convince herself of that.

“Well, she seems like she turned out okay, somehow. I just wish I had been there to _see_ it.” Diego says pointedly with that same dangerous fake casualness, and Vanya feels her body tense. She knows he can see it too. She breathes out the deep breath full of vapor slowly, trying to calm herself. Then he continues, trading the intricate barbs for incredulousness, “What, are you smoking now, too?”

“I believe it’s called _vaping,_ but yes.” She replies carefully, holding the tube between wringing fingers. He scoffs.

“Whatever, that shit is still garbage. You shouldn’t be putting it in your body.” he criticizes, his tone removing any sentimental value from his words. Vanya bristles, finally turning to face him just so he can see her frosty glare for a moment. His own glare digs into her, scalding and burning her skin the moment she meets it. A flare of victory flashes in his eyes when she turns, so she looks away, scowling at the air ahead of her now that she’s sitting up.

“I think you can see that I really don’t give a shit.” She bites out, trying not to clench her jaw.

“Clearly,” He says, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms, before muttering, “What a great influence you are.”

Something hot and slippery and _fast_ rises within her chest, rushing straight up to her brain and making her feel so lightheaded that she almost feels like her head will just pop off her shoulders. She’s suddenly wide awake. She thinks she can hear the distant, quiet sound of glass cracking, and she thinks it might be her own.

“I don’t do it in front of her.” She snaps fiercely, the words being pushed from her mouth by this uncontrollable force that leaves her breathless and angry, “And I don’t think you get to judge on _good influences_ when my daughter almost broke a girl’s nose in your name without even _meeting_ you!”

She doesn’t know when she whipped her head back over to meet his eyes again, but she can feel it in her neck. She doesn’t know where the draft is coming from, but she can hear glasses softly clinking together. She doesn’t know what he’s thinking, but his eyebrows are raised. He looks surprised, but there’s also a small, mean smirk on his face and a smug look in his eyes as if he’s proud of himself for getting her to snap and that just _pisses her off._

“Well, maybe I would’ve been better for her if I had _been there,_ or even _known_ about her, but you didn’t _let me!_ You denied me- denied _all of us_\- the chance to know her, and for _what?_” Diego’s finally yelling by the end of his sentence, his arms thrown akimbo. He stands out of his seat, looking like he’s preparing to pace. 

His eyes burn and tear into her soul with their fury, sending Seven into hysterical sobs. But Vanya doesn’t, because she is not Seven, not anymore. Vanya can see what’s underneath. She had never been able to see past his anger when they were children, but that was the past. She’s a mom now, she’s experienced temper tantrums, she’s _different._ So that’s why she can see past the explosive anger, that’s why she can see the helpless confusion and the _hurt_ that is causing the rest of him to combust.

And she did that. She’s the one who put it there.

The hot air swirling within her chest and her light head thickens, becoming a heavy, viscous liquid. It drenches her insides and drags her down from her infuriated high, and she doesn’t even fight it. Her tiredness floods back into her bones, twice as intense as before. She physically deflates, slouching her back and just letting her face drop all of its emotions. Something changes in Diego’s eyes as she does, something under the anger that looks oddly like disappointment, and something else so minuscule that she almost doesn’t catch it, something like...worry? That would be ridiculous. She doesn’t know. He’s probably bummed that she’s not going to give him the fight he wants. 

She turns away from Diego to escape his endless maze of emotions, placing her face in her hands, her elbows resting on her knees. She rubs at her eyes almost painfully, because the viscous liquid is forming into a familiar ball in her chest and she really doesn’t want Diego to realize how close she came to crying.

She drops her hands with a sigh and faces Diego again, who has returned to his chair. She doesn’t even try to hide what she’s feeling from showing in her eyes, so Diego gets a full blast of exhaustion, shame, guilt, and desperate pleading. He’s almost bowled over by the unexpected force of it before he catches himself and straightens his face back to his angry, grumpy standard. She looks to the side as she gathers her thoughts, showcasing the similarities between mother and daughter. She does not look at him as she speaks.

“I don’t like what I did- I’m not proud of it,” Vanya starts, sounding resigned and solemn. Her blinks are slow and lethargic as if it is hard to keep her eyes open, “But I had my reasons. I had lots of reasons- lots of excuses. And I’ll explain them, most of them, when everyone’s here so I don’t have to relive it more than once.” 

Here, she pauses, but then finally meets his eyes again. He no longer looks as apoplectic and seems to be trying to listen. She tries her best to push through the heavy tiredness to convey how important her next statement is.

“But my main reason, if you have to boil it down to one, was to keep her _safe._ And I don’t regret that. I can’t.”

Vanya looks away, not wanting to see his next argument come into being on his face. She stares ahead blankly, taking a drag while the silence stretches on painfully long. She blows it out after holding her breath for as long as she can. The silent tension holds on for two long minutes, and Vanya spends the entire time waiting with bated breath for it to snap. He's just staring at her, taking her in. She doesn't know what he's seeing, doesn't care.

Finally, she can see Diego shaking his head in incredulous disbelief in the corner of her eye. “You’ve got a lot of nerve, Vanya.”

She huffs, bringing up the E-cig for another hit, “Had to happen sometime.”

She gets an exasperated, angry chuff in return. She doesn't look to see what's being broadcasted on his face.

Her eyes slip closed, leaving her barely balancing her body on the couch to avoid falling off. She can't bring herself to care that much, her buzz is back.

“Did you even sleep last night?” Diego asks, his voice coming from a different part of the room now. She doesn’t open her eyes, and can’t muster up enough effort to lie.

“Two-ish hours.”

“Figures.” He mutters over the clinking of glasses and the sound of liquid pouring. He must be getting a drink. Vanya restrains a goofy smile from overtaking her face at the thought of what liquor he’s _not_ choosing, ‘cause it’s in her purse. Her lips still quirk up a tiny bit.

(Diego avoids using the glass that has a new crack down the side, wondering when and how the hell it got there.)

Suddenly, or so it seems to Vanya, there’s a glass full of amber being half-slammed onto the coffee table in front of her. It startles her eyes open, and she is immediately confused. She peers up at Diego with an inquiring look.

“Wake yourself up,” He orders, glaring down at her with a less intense look than before, “I’m not gonna wait ‘til after naptime to get my damn explanation.”

With that, he storms over to his chair by the fire and stares in the flames, not saying another word to her.

Vanya stares between him and the drink with a puzzled expression. Then she shrugs to herself, hitting her own cheek lightly to wake herself up.

_Eh, what the hell,_ she thinks.

And she sips. It’s good. Very not poisoned or anything.

So she takes another, slowly milking it as time passes. No words are traded, but Diego does give her a nasty side eye every time he hears the hiss of the E-cig. She almost rolls her eyes. She doesn’t care what he thinks about it, it’s part of the reason she’s slowly waking up. She sits back, trying to relax as much as she can.

Vanya awaits the dreaded conversation in silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope you enjoyed this big honking bitch of a chapter!
> 
> I always look forward to your comments, so I implore you to leave one! Tell me your favorite part! Tell me your favorite interactions! Tell me how you're feeling about it, or just how you're feeling in general! Tell me I suck! Literally anything would be amazing! 
> 
> The next chapter might take a long while, since I have to write all the Hargreeves in one room, (Blergh) but if you want updates or just want to yell at me about my choices as an author, follow me at ellagracehargreeves on tumblr!
> 
> https://ellagracehargreeves.tumblr.com/
> 
> Next time: Enter Klaus, as well as the rest of the gang. Vanya has a hard conversation. Meanwhile, Ella explores the mansion and takes part in some mischievous tomfoolery.
> 
> (Thank You, Matt. You make my day better.)


	7. Imagination and Confrontation.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vanya is forced to explain herself to her siblings, which leads to many emotional upheavals.
> 
> Meanwhile, Ella takes part in some delightful tomfoolery throughout the Hargreeves Mansion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is 9pm on the 22nd of November. I really just want to get this out so ya'll can enjoy it. I gotta edit/format it still, but damn it, this bastard of a chapter is getting up TONIGHT. I'll probably leave the tiny formatting issues until tomorrow. 
> 
> I hope you all enjoy, and PLEASE tell me what you think! It's the big conversation we've all been dreading!!!!! Woohoo!!! I got sick this month and had to stop writing for four days!!! Ahhhhh!!!!
> 
> PLEASE ENJOY! BOTH THE CUTE AND THE ANGSTY!!
> 
> Follow my tumblr, ellagracehargreeves, for updates on this fic.

It doesn’t seem like long (at least to Vanya, who is just on the edge of being awake,) until Klaus comes sauntering into the room. He has this proud look on his face, much like a puppy who has just taken a shit in a place he ought not to have shat. That expression is enough to reignite the old childhood sparks in Vanya’s chest for the first time since arriving at the house. At least Klaus is still Klaus. It’s an oddly comforting thought. After Five and Ben… left... Klaus was the nicest brother there. He wasn’t close to her, but when one is starved for kindness, the absence of cruelty is enough.

“Mi Hermano! Moya sestra!” He greets them respectively on his way to the bar. Vanya knows enough beginners Russian to recognize ‘My sister,’ so she raises her E-cig in a cheers motion along with Diego’s head jerk of acknowledgment.

She takes another drag, feeling awake enough now to try and have a conversation. Vanya can’t decide whether the nausea has subsided or not. It may be so extreme that she no longer notices it. The constant maybe-sick feeling disguises her stomach’s screams of hunger, which is alright with her, because the thought of choking food down right now brings with it the taste of ash. At least Number Seven is being quiet, solemnly distracted from the anxieties surrounding her by the nicotine. Indeed, the only weakness that Vanya has now is her own.

Klaus backtracks his footsteps flawlessly without moving his head, only to turn to her with a questioning look. She stares back. He doesn’t look away.

“What?” Vanya asks snappishly after a moment, wanting to escape his scrutinizing gaze. The vapor flows from her lips as she speaks.

“You’re vaping?” Klaus asks in return, looking pleasantly confused.

“...Yeah?” Vanya replies, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Why?”

“I prefer my nicotine without lung cancer.” Vanya answers bluntly, leaning back in the seat again.

Klaus snorts, “Fair, but I meant... why?”

“That’s the same question.”

Klaus’ eyes trail off to the side, looking at something she cannot see, and then he says, “Yeah, but different. Like… just… why?”

Vanya squints at him, starting to feel deja vu (or perhaps PTSD flashbacks) stemming from the months of Ella’s constant questions. Then she gestures around broadly at the room, “You’re telling me you’re not high off your ass, being back here?”

“Touche,” Klaus nods consideringly, his bottom lip jutting out, “Can I try a hit?”

Vanya doesn’t think that’s a good idea, and pulls the device closer, “What, you’ve never tried one before?”

“Nope,” He replies, popping the p, “My dealers don’t carry them.”

Vanya furrows her brow, “I’m pretty sure you can just buy it at a drugstore.”

“Most of which I am banned from,” Klaus explains cheerily, “Please, lemme try?”

Vanya still doesn’t think that’s the best idea, but then Diego makes a disapproving noise behind her and she’s suddenly the embodiment of pettiness. She slowly sits up and glances hesitantly at Klaus’ pathetic, beseeching eyes. It doesn’t hold a candle to Ella’s, but she lets herself cave anyway.

“You’ll give it back? It’s the only thing keeping me awake.” She counters, feeling Diego’s glare on her back with a sense of sick satisfaction.

Klaus lights up, but mocks offense, putting a hand over his heart in fake betrayal, “My beloved Vanya, how could you think of me in such a way? Me, a thief? I have never committed such a heinous act, never in my life!”

Vanya snorts, feeling her lips quirk up involuntarily.

“I think Allison would disagree.” She mutters, giving a pointed look to the skirt he’s sporting as she hands the device over. 

“Blasphemy,” He dismisses playfully, causing Vanya to let out a small chuckle as he breathes in at the end of the tube. His eyebrows raise as he takes a long breath, before holding it away from himself to regard it.

“Oh, that is exquisite. What flavor is it supposed to be?” He asks Vanya, both of them ignoring Diego’s background grumbles.

“Watermelon.”

“Oh, yeah, I can taste it,” he agrees before taking another quick drag, breathing out and looking at her with amused, jocose raised eyebrows, “I may have to break my code of honor against stealing.”

“Not right now you’re not,” Vanya quips, holding out her palm to him, “Hand it over.”

He makes a reluctant whining noise, setting it in her hand, “Fine, but only because I love you.”

“Sure, Klaus,” Vanya replies, ignoring the sparks in her chest going into overdrive, generating a bit of heat. _He doesn’t mean it, he’s just joking around. _

He gives a happy hum and pats her on the cheek as he passes by, drawing a small smile out of her and sending her stupid feelings into a frenzy again.

It’s nearly quiet as Klaus makes his way to the bar, the only noise being his disjointed humming and muttering. Vanya turns to see Diego giving her a dirty look, and her smile slips into a frown. In a fit of childish irritation, she sticks her tongue out at him as she sinks back into the cushions with her arms crossed. He shakes his head at her while rolling his eyes, turning back to the fire. She rolls her eyes in return and huffs, bringing the E-cig to her lips and turning away.

Klaus makes a loud displeased noise in the back of his throat, “The old man drank the Cognac! I was hoping to add that to my inheritance.”

No one answers him, but he mutters a scathing response to something anyway. Vanya manages to keep her smile off her face this time as she slowly pushes her purse further under the couch with her foot.

The almost-silence continues. 

Vanya sips on her drink and drags her E-cig. 

Diego stares pensively but angrily into the fire. 

Both of them avoid the other’s eyes and presence. 

The flames pop and crackle in a way that would usually relax her if she was at home instead of trapped in this house. She can’t feel their warmth. She’s cold.

Klaus is having a muttered conversation with no one over the sound of clinking and pouring. Vanya can sense him approaching the back of the couch that she’s claimed. He stands there studiously for a moment, and Vanya doesn’t want to look to see what he’s doing. 

She thinks she can hear a far off clock ticking the seconds away, counting down to her death sentence. _ Tick, Tock. Tick, Tock. Tick, Tock. Tick- _

“You seem… different, Van-Van.” Klaus says abruptly from behind her, almost making her jump because of how deep in her dread-filled reverie she was. She turns to see him, and while he does look curious, it seems like he doesn’t actually want to ask. She understands why he doesn’t want to talk to her. No one really does. That’s why she’s almost sort of touched that he cared enough to say something. That being said, she still has no idea how to answer him. She lets out a faint nervous chuckle. Klaus’ eyebrow climbs with the noise.

“Uh…um... I mean,” Vanya starts out weakly, feeling Diego’s eyes on her again. By the way Klaus glanced behind her for a moment, he must’ve whipped his head around to stare at her the minute the question was asked, “It’s been, what, 12, 13 years? I’ve… grown. People change over time, I guess. Things happen.”

She has no idea where she’s going with this, nor how she’s supposed to break the news that she has a child, but before she can even try, she’s interrupted by the sound of Diego scoffing into his glass. She slowly turns to look at him with a stormy glare.

“Yeah, _ things _ happen, alright. Big things.” He remarks, keeping eye contact with her and giving a tight, smug smile when her eyes narrow at him. Honestly, fuck him. He looks too proud of himself. She hopes that her eyes convey the correct amount of _ fuck you _ with their mutinous stare.

Suddenly, with a lot more grace than he should rightly have, Klaus vaults over the back of the couch without even spilling his drink. He lands to her left in the spot that Ella vacated, looking positively gleeful.

“I sense there is _ tea _ to be spilled!” He exclaims delightedly, his voice pitched higher in a sing-song fashion and his hand tapping on the one holding his tumbler in the facade of excited clapping. Diego dismisses him exasperatedly by shaking his head and rolling his eyes again, (Vanya suspects that his eyes will be tired by the time he leaves the house) but Vanya just tilts her head a smidge and gives Klaus an inquisitive look. He looks at her with pitying eyes, as if she is too naive to understand his weird Klaus code-speak. He swallows the drink he took quickly enough to choke on it, but somehow he doesn’t.

“_Gossip _, my dear uncultured sister, I meant I could sense sweet, juicy gossip. So spill! What is it that has our dearest grumpy Diego with twisted panties?” He explains, once again ignoring Diego’s grumble of protest. 

Vanya becomes stock-still, a deer in headlights. Her throat and mouth dry up instantaneously, providing no traction for the words braving the journey from her mind to her tongue and then out into the world. She bites down on her lip as hard as she can to try and snap herself out of it, and the taste of blood floods her mouth, sending her stomach hurtling down a steep rocky hill, rolling and spinning endlessly while panging with hunger. Her head spins for a moment along with it, and she feels like she’s been flipped upside down. Finally, she swallows hard around her asphyxiating fear and tries to speak.

“It’s-uh. I’ve… kept something… from all of you,” She forces from her paralyzed lungs, almost avoiding his eye-line. The look he has is suffocatingly patient if not a bit understanding, and she can’t bear to watch it collapse as she admits her sins. She can already see his eyebrows start to furrow slightly, “It- it’s hard to- uh, explain-”

_ Tick… Tock…. Tick…. Tock. _

She’s saved- or maybe not- by the sound of thumping approaching the room, closely followed by the click-clack of heels. She almost lets herself relax, until Luther’s commanding voice bursts out, “Vanya!”

She immediately straightens, her already rigid, cramping insides seizing even more. Vanya recognizes that tone, even if it was never directed at her. It’s Luther’s ‘leader’ voice, used on missions and at home when the team was not behaving as he saw fit. He never had reason to use it on Vanya, with her obviously not being on said team, but also because she was never a problem for him. She was always on the peripheral, never the problem, never the solution. It’s jarring to hear her name said in that specific tone of voice after all this time. 

He enters the room, Allison treading his footsteps. His mere presence brings with it an air of authority, not as suffocating as Dad’s but there nonetheless. But he does not seem confident at the moment; he looks caught off guard, sideways, as if he had just been told that the color yellow is actually blue. His puzzlement weakens his strong dominance without even meaning to. Allison’s firm but gentle presence beside him belittles it even more, like a noticeably dense, kindly drill sergeant being delivered on top of a fluffy white cloud, descending from the heavens above. A natural juxtaposition.

Luther scans the room as if assessing the situation of a mission, but his bafflement is written all over his face. His confused visage finds Vanya’s terrified face, and he asks acerbically, “Allison said you had a daughter?”

Vanya did not think she had any breath left in her lungs, but it is knocked out of her regardless. So much for breaking the news nicely. The world seems to slow down, the seconds dragging by longer, heads turning with agonizing, drudging speed. Everyone’s eyes are boring into her soul, especially Luther’s and Klaus’, and all Vanya can manage is a wide-eyed, stiff, singular nod.

The slowness does not cease, it is only joined by echoing in her ears. Still, her siblings haven’t broken into argument yet. Everything looks weirdly stationary and moving at the same time.

All of them look filled to the brim with questions, but before Luther can utter a sound like he obviously wants to, Klaus cuts across him with a disbelieving shout of, “Little Vanya got _ laid?!_”

The world abruptly snaps back into place. She can feel more than her fear once more.

A laugh bubbles up inside her from the unexpected exclamation, tangling with her words and choking her. Instead of the answer she was going for, a strangled noise escapes her dry throat. She takes a sip of her drink to clear it. It… doesn’t do much. Her siblings stare at her incredulously. She sets her glass back down, the _ clack _ it makes sounding much louder than it should be. Vanya tries to rub feeling into her remarkably cold fingers as she glances up at her family anxiously.

“Uh, yes, but _ no_,” Vanya begins into the uncomfortable, awaiting pause of silence, pointing towards Klaus quickly as she adds the answer to his question, “It’s- It’s really complicated, uh- hard to explain- but, um- her name is Ella, she goes by Ellie if you’re her friend. She just turned seven, she was born on March 7th, 2012, and… uh…”

It begins.

Luther, whose world is slowly being flipped around and can’t reconcile Number Seven with something like _ this_, takes her trailing off as her being finished, “So why don’t we know about her?”

“No, wait, what were you going to say?” Diego demands over him as he stands up, rather enjoying the instant karma that he gets to witness.

He is spoken over by Klaus, who asks, mystified, “How did you have a kid if you didn’t get laid?”

He is mainly ignored.

(Ben, gradually getting over his open-mouthed shock, starts jumping and saying, “The girl! That girl! It’s that girl! In the alley!” to Klaus, who ignores him and waves him off without looking away from Vanya. Ben tries to smack Klaus’ arm to get his attention, but predictably, it just goes right through him. The ghost grumbles grumpily to himself, crossing his arms and ducking his head into his incorporeal chest. Klaus still doesn’t pay him any mind.)

“Was she adopted?” Luther questions with a restrained tone, like he doubts her but does not want to show it. Diego scoffs and shakes his head, turning to Luther with a withering glare as sharp as the knives on his harness.

“No, the kid looks just like her.” He denies disparagingly.

Luther raises his eyebrows challengingly at his brother, straightening his posture, “Oh, so you’ve met her? Why didn’t we know of this?”

Diego steps forward to get in the large man’s face.

“Yeah, I met her when they first got here _ today_, you idiot,” He provokes tauntingly, ”I’m just as lost as you. But it might take you longer to figure it out, obviously.”

Luther closes in on Diego unconsciously and continues arguing, losing his self control. His words come out gruff and incensed, trading with Diego’s mocking, biting jabs. As Luther gets more riled up, Diego’s eyes croon with satisfaction.

And Vanya?

Vanya considers a nearby wall, tuning the others out for a moment, wondering just how fast she would have to run at it to knock herself out. She takes a shaky hit of the E-cig, staring off to the side. Even so, she can see Luther’s forehead crinkle. He opens his mouth to comment on it, about to interrupt another of Diego’s rebuttals. But the person who’s been silent the entire time has had enough.

“Guys. Guys!” Allison yells over them all, quelling their voices for the first time. Even though her curiosity is roaring within her, she can see Vanya getting steadily more and more overwhelmed. She asks her gently, “Where is Ellie right now?”

The men all nod at her, perhaps kicking themselves for not thinking of that sooner, and turn to Vanya. She tries not to squirm with the sudden attention. She quickly blows the vapor out of her mouth to answer, and thankfully, none of them say a word about it. Yet.

“She’s exploring, just looking around. Which means I probably should… explain… now.” Vanya says slowly, realizing that now is the time she’s been dreading. She starts to pop her chilly knuckles with clammy fingers, pushing on each individual joint to achieve the tiny popping sound. _ Pop. Pop. Pop. _

The distant clock gets louder, still counting down, even though the time is now. _ Tick, tock. Tick, tock. Tick, tock. _

It almost sounds faster, the noise reverberating into Vanya’s very being.

Luther and Allison sit down in different spaces, as does Diego, the former holding his arm out to Vanya with a nod, permission to start her story. The problem is that she has no idea where to start. So Vanya stands quickly, figuring that it’s what she’s supposed to do.

She goes right back down almost immediately, her legs giving out and going limp. She makes no effort to stop her descent, her mind going blank on the eve of passing out.

“Woah!” cries a voice close to her, and then there is someone catching her, gripping onto her noodle-like biceps. She just barely avoids tumbling to the floor, the hands pulling her back onto the edge of the couch just in time. Her head spins and dark spots envelop her vision, leaving her functionally blind for a moment. She groans, squeezing them shut. She just barely stops herself from cuddling further into the arms holding her (as she would with Cara) when the blood starts rushing in her ears.

“Are you okay?” comes Allison’s alarmed shout which Vanya catches through muffled, ringing ears. There’s some other noise, but it’s not clear enough for her to decipher yet. There’s a fuzzy sound filled with pressure that accompanies every throb of her brain. It feels like her skull is full of cotton that’s being pulled out through her ears. Her tongue seems functional through her clenched teeth, so she tries to answer.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m good. Low blood pressure- sugar- thing. Ugh. Just give me a second.” Vanya grits out, her pounding head in her hands. It starts to abate, the pressure growing lighter and lighter, so Vanya opens her eyes. As she blinks to clear her vision, the first thing she sees through the bright haze is Klaus, still holding onto her with a concerned look on his face.

“Sorry- Thanks, Klaus,” she thanks him gratefully, mortified, and the worried look is quickly replaced by a playful one. He pats her arm gently and then releases her from his grasp. A smirk forms on his face and the playfulness shifts into mischievousness.

“I think that’s enough of _ that_, then,” He teases her as he snatches the E-cig from her fingers in the blink of an eye.

“Hey!” Vanya exclaims, her dizziness snapping away as she tries to grab it back. Klaus, the asshole, holds it up above his head with his unfairly long arms. Vanya stretches as much as she can to reach it but still comes up short. She growls in the back of her throat.

“_Nooooo-_” Klaus sings happily, before being cut-off by Luther.

“Guys!” They both turn their heads to him, not moving from their childish positions, and he continues, “Can we focus up here? We have mor- uh, other important things to talk about besides this.”

Vanya, abashed, leans back from where she was practically climbing Klaus, and he puts his arm down. He still doesn’t give the E-cig back, nor does he look particularly ashamed. When Vanya gives him an expectant look, he simply takes a drag of it and winks at her. She’s an idiot for not seeing the mischief in his eyes for what it was: maliciousness.

His continued speech becomes background noise as Vanya stares vacantly, trapped in her thoughts.

“Monkey in the Middle?” Klaus asks Luther cheekily, wiggling the tube between his fingers. Luther, curiously, flinches.

“Shut _ up, _ Klaus.” he snaps.

“Okay, geez. Everyone is so _ grumpy _ today!” Klaus remarks to the empty air on his left, and Luther rolls his eyes.

(Ben stares down at Klaus with one of his infamous disapproving glares, his arms crossed. “You really should shut up, dumbass.”

Klaus gently places a hand on his heart, mockingly offended, while keeping eye contact with Ben. The ghost rolls his eyes so hard that it’s a mystery how they don’t just roll out of his head.)

Vanya ponders despairingly, feeling like she’s on the outside looking in on herself, slumped over and surrounded by betrayed siblings.

Vanya hasn’t been by herself in 7 years. She always either had Cara or Ella by her side, the protector and the protectee. It’s been seven long, happy years since she has stood alone in a room full of people, with no one backing her up or standing in her corner. She’s not sure why she expected Klaus to be different, for _ this _to be different. The expectant, judging eyes trained on her are a harsh reminder that she will never have a true ally in this house. It’s hard to believe that she ever let herself forget that.

“Fine, I’ll just... sit, then,” She sighs restlessly, picking up her drink to put something between her and her siblings, “Er- Sorry about that,” 

They don’t respond, just stare blankly at her. Impatience radiates from Diego like a solar flare, blinding her from noticing Allison’s encouraging eyes. Vanya sighs again, this time of resigned fatigue, rubbing a hand down her face. It’s time to explain. To answer for years of lies and hiding.

The clock still ticks.

* * *

While Vanya struggles, Ella dances through the halls of the mansion, having the absolute time of her life. 

The energy beneath her skin begs to be released, but since she can’t do it the easy way yet, she settles for hyperactive activity. She skips down the hallway she’s in, trailing her hand against the smooth wood panels on the wall, intermittently interjecting a spin and twirl into her gait that sends the bottom of her shirt flaring and her hair flying around her. She eventually reaches a staircase with a sturdy looking guardrail on it and decides to perform her biggest spin yet. 

Bracing herself against the railing firmly, she pushes herself away from it to get an extra shove of speed. Her body swings through the air almost elegantly, but her technique starts to deteriorate as she has more fun with it. Jubilant whoops of laughter shatter the idealistic picture of grandeur. She throws herself around and around and around until she’s too dizzy to walk straight and giggling too much to breathe properly.

This might have tired her out if not for the buzzing in her blood that sings as she starts to sweat. She keeps going. She might be stuck on the ground for now, but she feels _ free_.

She does not stop her constant twisting until she feels her beloved knife escape her waistband and go clattering to the ground with a loud, jolting sound. She immediately stops her momentum and lets out a small “Eep!” in alarm, slipping and falling onto the ground without letting her gaze falter from her prized possession. She clambers to her feet the best she can, her eyes still zeroed in on the folded knife.

After a fair bit of stumbling, nausea, and catching her breath, she makes her way over to it on the floor and picks it up gently. There’s pressure building up behind her eyes as she studies it for any sign of blemish. She releases her held breath in relief when she finds nothing.

“You can’t get away from me that easy! I’m your Mommy now.” Ella scolds the weapon, disappointed with its behavior thus far. She carefully secures it into the back her waistband once more and bounces up cheerfully, intending to continue her path down the hall. She doesn’t, though, and instead freezes when she hears voices and two different pairs of footsteps coming her way. 

She flounders, her eyes wide and hands flapping, desperately searching for an escape route. Her vision snags on the obvious exit, so she flees down the flight of stairs, putting her back against the nearest wall, and waits until she can hear them pass. Then, floating ever so slightly above the step to ensure she makes no noise, she peeks over the floor separating the two levels to see who it was.

It’s Aunt Allison, talking to a very (very very) big man who Ella doesn’t recognize. She can only see their backs, but he is too large to be Uncle Klaus from what Ellie remembers of him so that only leaves one option: This must be her Uncle Luther. Ella’s eyes widen with awe and a wonder-filled smile appears on her face. 

_ This _ is the man she has said goodnight to every night for the past three years. He’s a bit bigger than she imagined, but that’s pretty awesome. She would really like to say hi, but she told Mommy that she wouldn’t talk to anyone. She only plans to break the “no touching” rule, if she broke any more that would be sort of unfair to her mother. She has morals, after all. She’s not a _ mongrel_.

Instead, Ellie glances down at where she’s floating before slowly pulling herself along the side of the landing like she <strike>does</strike> used to do in the deep end of the pool, trying to get closer to hear their conversation. Her eyes light up with delight as she realizes the topic is _ her. _

“I just don’t understand, how can she have a _ daughter_?” Uncle Luther’s low voice asks, different than she thought it would be, and Ella almost starts to vibrate. _ That’s me! _

“I don’t know, Luther, she just showed up with a little girl who looks just like her,” Aunt Allison’s modulated tones wash over Ellie’s ears, “She said she would explain when we were all together, so if we want answers, we should get to the living room with the others.”

Uncle Luther sends a look around the hall, so Ellie quickly ducks down to hang below, hoping he didn’t see her. He sighs, and she can hear his arms hit his sides with a heavy _ thump_.

“Fine, but I’m still confused,” He grumbles as they walk away. Aunt Allison shrugs and hums agreeably. Ellie peeks over the railing once more to catch the tail end of them walking away. She gradually gives control of her body back to the Earth’s gravity, slowly descending to the floor, her arms and legs kicking in excitement until her shoes touch the floorboards. 

That was so _ awesome_, she can’t believe that she’s now seen all of her uncles! The ones she can see, anyway. Ellie sings to herself as she trots down the new hallway she has discovered, only to pause at the pinned-up posters that cover the wall at her eye level.

A confused frown forms on her face as she traces the plastic-like paper with her hand. Words like Disarm, Kick, and even _ Gouge, _ stare back at her with colorfully illustrated pictures to display the action they describe. She has learned a few little things like this in her self-defense classes, barring gouge, but never to this level. Should she have? Is she somehow behind?

She turns from the wall, worrying her lip in thought. She absently takes out her knife and unfolds it, then refolds it again, only to open it up once more. She continues this as she slowly ambles down the hallway, ignoring the jittery feeling in her bones to study the place more closely. The sound of the knife sliding into itself and out is something she finds inexplicably pleasant. She puts it back in her waistband, folded, when she discovers doors that are just _ begging _ to be opened.

Ella pokes her head into one of the rooms, finding an obvious teenage bedroom, based on what she has seen in movies. There are scribbles all over the walls, posters hung everywhere, and a nice string of fairy lights over the bed. She feels a thrill seeing it- she has those over her bed too! 

She glances over to the other side of the room only to see multiple blurs taking up residence there. Ella’s only seen the weird, blurry, green tinted orbs a few times before, and never this many at once. Just the sight of them has her skin crawling- she always gets the pervading feeling of _ wrongness _ when she encounters the phenomena. She doesn’t know what they are exactly, but she knows that they must have to do with her powers somehow. At first, she was convinced that she just needed glasses, but the fuzzy areas stayed in one place, only occasionally moving depending on how formed it was. She was able to walk around it like a 3 dimensional object. Plus, their color is just barely different than the rest of the space around them, like a sun-spot in her eye that is nearly faded, but still there if she focuses on it. 

They give her the same feeling as she gets when she’s sensing gravity around her, but it feels _ tainted _ in a way. There is nothing physical there to use gravity, but it’s used anyway, giving Ellie a dirty, slimy feeling similar to wet sewage. While some of the blobs seem to have more of a defined shape and feel less disgusting, they still don’t feel _ right_. The best guess that Ella has is that the blurry shapes are…. _ Things _ pretending to use gravity, even though they don’t do it naturally. It’s only a theory, and it has many holes, but it’s the best Ellie can come up with.

Normally these orbs, while feeling _ wrong_, give off a generally harmless aura. Still, Ellie hasn’t been able to bring herself to touch any of them yet. But these particular ones…. Ella can only stand there and gape in horror. These orbs feel _ malicious_. They sink their putrid tendrils into Ellie’s soul from across the room, pawing and chafing at her revoltingly with their festering, infected, _ rotting _ touch. Ella’s stomach turns and she’s finally shaken out of her stupor, dashing out the door and throwing it shut behind her. She almost falls to her hands and knees with the force of her gagging.

She calms herself down enough to wander to the next door over, opening the door to find the same room, but closer to the wretched, distorted shapes. They swirl around menacingly when they finally detect her presence, but Ellie immediately slams that door shut. It takes her a bit longer this time to regain color in her face and lose the shakiness in her hands and legs. Eventually, though, she cheers herself up and drags her curiosity back to the forefront of her mind, hurling the experience with the orbs to the deepest, darkest parts of her brain. It still lingers in the back of her consciousness as she unsteadily plods down the passageway.

At the end of the hallway, she peeps into the room on the left to find another boy’s room with lots of model airplanes that she would _ love _ to use her powers on. She can surely say now that she’s in the bedroom part of the house. She wonders where her Mom’s room is. Ducking into the room on the right, she knows that this is definitely _ not it. _ But it’s wonderful. So wonderfully _ pink_. She enters the room fully.

She thinks that this might be Aunt Allison’s room, judging by the posters and the general vibe of the space. Ella stands in the middle of it, slowly turning around and taking everything in with a wide smile on her face. She would _ love _this room. It’s very close to hers in style!

On her second turn of observation, she spots an object on top of the dresser out of reach that makes her still, but it causes her sparks to go into hyperdrive out of excitement.

She holds out a hand hesitantly and the object zooms toward her instantly, her sparks exploding into being around it and on her hands with enthusiastic fervor. Some of the electric power crawls up her arms before she can even think to stop it. Many of the small decorations and objects around the room jump towards her, the tight drawstring of control slipping from her fingers and snapping forward with twice as much force before she can catch it.

“_Whoa!_” She squeaks, almost being upended from the shift of her balance. She quickly tries to get it under control, but can’t help the unearthly glow that generates from her skin. Breathing out a breath, she turns her gaze to the object held in her quivering hands.

It’s a domino mask. _ A real-life Umbrella Academy domino mask. _

This is _ so awesome. _ Her fingers begin to fiddle with the edges of accessory, dipping a little into temptation. Ellie bites her lip, considering.

She knows she shouldn’t. It’s not hers, after all. But…

Ella leans backward to catch a look out of the door, finding the coast to be clear.

...She really wants to.

She sucks on her bottom lip harder, her eyes flicking around as if looking for someone to talk her out of it. She glances at the door again, and then looks down at the mask longingly. And then returns her eyes to the door frame.

She twitches a ring finger on her hand before she can back down, sparks flashing, and the door swings shut with a loud _ BANG_. 

She winces, stilling for a moment to listen for any shouts of surprise. She hadn’t meant for it to be that loud and forceful. Hearing nothing, she darts her eyes back to the mask, an impish smile growing on her face.

Turning on a dime with her feet barely brushing the floor, she faces the mirror. With a little apprehension, she slowly slides the mask onto her eyes. The smile spreads as she meets her reflection in the mirror. She looks like a real superhero!

The too-big mask slips sideways down her face, revealing one of her eyes. She finds this unreasonably funny.

Ellie starts giggling and laughing so hard that she has to hold her sides from the pain in her lungs, rolling backward into the air. The control of her orbit slips a little, causing drawers and cabinets to slide open a smidgen behind her. Quickly getting a hold of herself, she wipes some of the moisture from her eyes, fixing the mask back below her brow. 

“I’m… Lady Levity!” She announces to the mirror, sitting in midair with her legs curled up toward herself. Her mouth twists in displeasure, “No, that’s not right…”

As she tilts her head and chews on the inside of her lip, thinking, she catches a glimpse of the clothing hanging within the now ajar wardrobe through the mirror. She almost can’t help the sparks that burn even brighter as she spins and bolts over to take a closer look. She picks out the smallest one there, trailing her fingers down the fabric reverently. The emblem patch stands out proudly on the upper left side. Ella traces each stitch of it with the barest touch.

She zips over to the bed, finally letting herself stand on it properly, and carefully slips the jacket on. It’s still too large for her and hangs off her body, but she loves it anyway. She _ really _looks like an Umbrella Academy member now! She fixes her mask back on properly from where it slipped again when she sees herself in the mirror.

“Uh… Moongirl? No…” She dismisses, hand holding her chin, racking her brain for good superhero names. A few knick knacks and magazines rattle and shutter on the vanity, so Ellie looks down at her hands, which are sparking wildly despite her tight control. She flexes her fingers, watching as the electric green sparkles drip down her digits.

“Shut up, you stupid sparks…” She mutters to her hands, before popping her head back up with a new light in her eyes, “The…The Sp- Yeah! The Spark!”

She laughs joyfully, doing an energetic front flip as she bounds off the bed to land in a classic superhero pose in front of the mirror. If her very _ ugly _shoe goes flying off, that’s hardly her fault, is it? And it’s truly beneath her to go over and put it back on. Live and let be, she says. She pushes the mask back up her face again, quickly returning to her heroic pose.

“Don’t worry Umbrella Academy! The Spark is here to help save the day!” She shouts at the mirror, letting herself float up into the air and doing various flips as she does. She giggles once again, hearing it infect her words as she imagines herself fighting crime alongside her aunt and uncles.

During her scenario, she briefly wonders how her Mommy is doing all by herself. She worries for a moment, but instead is swept up in her own imagination before she can decide to go check up on her. She’s having lots of fun, surely Mommy must be too?

* * *

_ Tick, tock. Tick, tock. _

Vanya’s not sure if having Ella here would make things better or, more likely, worse, but she knows that she misses having the firm presence of her daughter by her side. Without it, she feels like she is drifting away aimlessly with nothing to hold on to.

Her heart beats forcefully in her chest with a faster rhythm than usual. Somehow, she no longer finds it comforting like she did before.

“I- I have- had a lot of reasons for keeping her from you all, away from you, and it starts with her birth. She… She was born like us.”

Vanya tries and fails to suppress the thrill that she gets from saying the word _ us _ when discussing her siblings and actually _ meaning _it. Her heart picks up speed.

“What does that mean?” Klaus asks, looking very bored with his jaw held up by his hands, his elbows resting on his knees. Despite this, his eyes observe her with rapt attention, a crease forming between his brows. She doesn’t really notice, but it’s the most focused that Klaus has looked in a long time.

“Wait… you don’t mean…?” Diego trails off, making an odd gesture around his stomach. His forehead is puckered, his brows both knitting and raising. His eyes grow slightly wider and more open as the idea rattles around in his mind. He looks troubled even thinking about it.

Vanya meets his eyes, and for the first time today they don’t look angry, just confused and full of trepidation. She nods solemnly.

His expression morphs into one of blatant horror, wide eyes staring at her almost blankly because of how full of spluttering, revulsed astonishment they are. Revulsion at her, at how disgusting she is. She can see the repugnance start to swirl in his eyes. She breaks away, staring down at her lap, biting her bloody lip again against the tears that want to form. She bounces her frigid, intertwined hands on her knee, sucking on the side of her cheek and ducking her head even further away from them all to avoid their faces. The metallic taste in her mouth does not need to be joined by bitter salt dripping down her cheeks. She turns a bit so she’s not practically facing the back of the couch, and tries to breathe. It’s not easy.

“I wasn’t pregnant when I woke up that morning.” She forces out thickly, quietly, but it’s still heard. There’s a collective sharp intake of breath around the room, but Vanya pushes through, trying to keep her voice from shaking and also loud enough to hear, “I was practicing my violin when suddenly… it happened. I didn’t know what was happening, my stomach was practically ripped to shreds in an instant…. Extreme stretch marks, I guess. There was so much blood… _ everywhere...” _

Vanya breathes out a shaky breath, finally risking a look up at her family. Diego’s horrified look seems to have spread to Luther, who stares at her with eyes as round as car tires and eyebrows closing in on his hairline. Klaus is perpetually wincing, and she can see the way he shivers as if internally cringing at the mere thought of what she went through. Allison, the only one who can truly understand what she’s talking about, is rapidly paling, looking almost ashen by the time Vanya glances at her. Vanya breathes in and has a bit of trouble letting it out, but she’s spared from continuing when Allison makes a noise resembling a squeak and then tries to speak.

“That- That can- _ happen_?” Her sister breathes, her eyes wide with terror. Her legs had crossed at some point, and she’s hugging herself around the middle as if she expects to burst out into pregnancy at any moment. Vanya can’t blame her- she was scared for years after Ella was born that she would be inexplicably saddled with another baby, so much so that she kept Ella’s baby supplies for a long time.

“I don’t know,” Vanya answers apologetically, “It’s one of the things that I still haven’t gotten an answer to. I don’t know if it’s because I was born on that day, or because I’m- I- I’m _ ordinary_, or if it was just a coincidence. I’m sorry.”

Allison looks a little green, but nods. She shifts uncomfortably in her seat, tightening both her arms and her legs. Vanya tries to swallow the taste of bile on her tongue from _ that _word. She pushes out a breath through pursed lips.

Now that she has got the first part of the story out, she doesn’t know how to continue. In the presence of her siblings, her reasoning seems so flimsy, so _ stupid. _ She wishes that she wrote it down beforehand, or even had an idea of how to go about explaining. She’s _ such _ a _ moron_. She clears her throat, trying to clear her mind as well as the possible mucus and bile climbing up within her, and opens her mouth. She has to say _ something. _

“I c- I call bullshit.” cuts into the air like, ironically, a knife, before she can.

An icicle penetrates her chest. Her torso flinches involuntarily from the force of it.

Vanya blinks. Then incrementally straightens, dragging each vertebrae gradually upright. And then she turns dangerously towards the source. Diego.

Her brother has tight lips and a hard look in his eye, like he didn’t actually _ mean _ to say that, but is standing by it all the same. His eyes still look horrified, but it’s desperately covered up by stubborn cynicism. Like he doesn’t _ want _ to believe what she’s saying, he doesn’t _ want _ to believe what she went through. She’s not sure what his motives could possibly be, but he’s doing it either way. 

She raises her eyebrow in the slightest, an uncaring look gracing her face. This expression is one that almost always has Ellie running for the hills to avoid repercussions, but Diego, the fool, meets her gaze head-on.

The thick, freezing icicle that’s impaled in the center of her chest drops in temperature, glazing over her eyes and settling there. The cold, detached look is back, and the heavy, viscous liquid is gathering together around her lungs and is starting to become enraged ice once more. Her exhaustion disappears, blown away by the raw, polar wind.

“Excuse me?” Vanya asks frostily in clipped tones, even though blood is gushing from her ice wound because of his disbelief.

“You heard me,” Diego growls out, “How do we know this isn’t all a bullshit lie to cover up the fact that you got yourself knocked up?”

“Diego!” Allison scolds, aghast. Diego’s eyes snap to her.

“What? It’s true! What reason has she given us to believe her?” He defends, holding his arm out towards Vanya. Allison looks very angry, but can’t seem to express what she’s thinking. _ Probably agreeing with him but not wanting to_, Vanya thinks sadly.

“Why would I lie?” Vanya asks more softly than before, feeling the hot blood ooze from her heart and roll down her front, soaking her clothes and hands with the uncomfortably warm gore. The gelid numbness that the ice provides starts to melt away because of the heat of the plasma, leaving her with a deep, throbbing pain centered around her heart.

Diego is, unfortunately, still on her side of the glass. He’s hurting her, just like she knew he would.

Her fiercest brother meets her eyes without lessening the intensity of his own, anger shining through them like an inferno. 

Then, without looking away, he slowly pronounces, “You’ve been known to do stupid things for attention before.”

Klaus lets out an _ ooooo _ from behind the hand over his mouth and then hisses like he’s wincing. Vanya doesn’t turn to look, her eyes stuck on Diego’s with pressure building up behind them. His fire managed to thaw her cold look, and now the water left over is close to dripping from her eyes.

(Ben is standing behind Klaus, his arms crossed tightly with an angry look on his face.

“I mean, it’s a good point, but that was so uncalled for.” He bites out.

Klaus nods absently in agreement.)

Allison hits Diego with something, hard. Vanya doesn’t know what she uses, but Diego emits an indignant yelp.

The ice slowly spreads from her chest to the rest of Vanya’s body, freezing through her arms and hardening her expression, icing over her eyes again. The slow crawl of furious shock prickles across her extremities down to her fingertips and the ends of her toes. She can feel the cold sweat layered on her skin. Her stomach twists, threatening to send its meagre contents back up from emotion alone. The hot, yet frosty wind fills her head again, and she has to literally bite her tongue to prevent herself from blurting out something impulsive and angry.

Vanya brings a jittery hand up to pinch the bridge of her nose, trying to breathe slowly and deeply to calm herself. It doesn’t work. Any clear space in her mind that it creates is swiftly overtaken by her icy anger. She slams her palm down after a moment of trying, looking to Diego, who gazes back at her with satisfaction in his eyes, probably assuming that he had won. It shifts slightly into unease as he takes in the look on her face. Her eyes are so cold that it’s a surprise that he doesn’t break out into a spontaneous case of frostbite. Her tears frost over once again before they can make an appearance.

“You want proof, Diego?” She hisses in a brittle voice, scooting to the edge of the cushion and starting to unbutton the bottom of her shirt with furious vigor, “I’ll give you proof.”

“Wait- What are you- What-” Diego splutters, not expecting her to defend herself at all, much less in such a bold fashion.

“Are we stripping now?” Klaus tries to joke, not liking the weird, tense vibe the room has going right now. He’s ignored, again.

“Vanya, you don’t have to-” Allison starts to object, but is struck dumb when Vanya rips open the bottom half of her button-up and yanks her undershirt up to reveal her stomach. There’s a stunned silence as they all stare at her midsection. At the hideous vestiges of her past.

Her scars are not something she likes to think about. They are truly one of the most ugly things about her body. She hates them. They’re the reason that she wears oversized, loose clothes, because she’s not willing to risk even the slightest chance that they will see the light of day. She can always feel them rubbing against the fabric of her shirt, reminding her of their existence when all she wants to do is forget. She could draw them blindfolded if she had to, due to the many hours she spent tracing and studying them with disgust in the mirror. She knows those raised, angry lines like the back of her hand. She remembers watching them heal and hoping against all hope that they would not linger. They did anyway, leaving her with a map full of grotesque, revolting scars. 

The main wounds left the fattest veins of injury, the largest being a wide, almost concave stripe straight down her front leading to her belly button. The ones on her sides, also pointing to her belly button, are the second largest, looking more like lacerations and less like someone scooped out a part of her body. There are more that appear to be better than that but still look like wounds all the same; long, thin lines that run parallel to the larger ones, and then some roads of injury that go off into any direction they please. These paths are not as red as the others but they still stand out on her skin, darker than the rest of her body. There are more scars that are tame, the ones that could look like nasty stretch marks if she squints enough, but Vanya remembers the blood that crusted onto them, the nearly missed infections that almost claimed them. Those marks are the most plentiful, littering all around her stomach and mostly below her belly button, where the baby bump stretched her skin with its heft. All in all, it looks like she had a bad run-in with an irate cheetah after having a stressful pregnancy.

Vanya knows all of her scars. She has cataloged each and every one. She would take as many scars as she had to for her baby, but that doesn’t make it any easier to show them to anyone. Especially not to her siblings.

She looks around the room with a piercing gleam in her eyes, almost daring any of them to doubt her now.

Her siblings are silent, all of them ogling at her like she’s a particularly disturbing freak at the circus. Luther has paled a shade, as has Allison, who had just started to get some color back. Luther’s lips are pinched closed, as if keeping something back. _ Probably vomit or some exclamation of disgust, _ Vanya thinks. Allison looks weirdly close to tears for some reason. All of their eyes are wide once more, but none more than Klaus, whose eyeballs look to be seconds away from popping out of his skull. He had made a muffled “mrph!” noise of shock before pushing his hand more firmly against his mouth.

(“Holy shit…” Ben whispered, now leaning over the couch as if to keep himself upright, which is ridiculous, because he is a ghost. Nonetheless, the whites of his eyes are in sharp contrast with his dark outfit.)

Vanya finally turns to Diego, the target of all this, and is surprised to find his gaze directed at her face instead of her stomach. His eyes look haunted, in a way, echoes of horror and shock floating around within them. Just when she starts to get a notion of whatever he’s trying to convey, he brings his sight back to her scars, and whatever understanding that Vanya developed slips away. As he stares at her body, the anger comes back with a vengeance, furthering into blinding fury. Vanya has no earthly idea what the hell he could be so pissed at her for, but she thinks she has proven her point well enough.

“That good enough for you?” She asks curtly, folding her clothing back down and fixing her shirt. Her cheeks start to flame as she begins to realize what she just did, but she ducks her head and hopes no one can see. She suddenly feels less justified, more foolish. Her ice melts away into heaving, shameful water that presses down on her shoulders.

It’s quiet for a moment, and then Diego nods his head dazedly. 

“Yea- Er, Yeah.” He says, his voice cracking when he first speaks, so he clears his throat and repeats it in a more <strike>manly</strike> assured way. He averts his eyes to his lap, where he pulls out a cube of some sort and begins sharpening one of his many knives on it. The scratching noise it makes is somewhat grating.

_ Shing…. Shing….. Shing…. _

(“Go, Vanya,” Ben murmurs, pumping his fist halfheartedly in support. Klaus, still a bit shell-shocked, copies him subtly. Neither of them take their eyes off the situation.)

Luther shifts uncomfortably as if trying to shed away what he just saw, “Go- uh, Go ahead, Vanya.”

“Thank you,” Vanya says in a small voice, nodding to him. She is slowly starting to curl in on herself in embarrassment. She sighs anxiously, leaning over her knees once more and shifting her body from one side to the other. She looks up at her siblings’ anticipating faces, now free of most doubt, and quickly looks back down at her sweaty, wringing hands once again. She takes in a deep breath and lets it out slowly, trying to relax her tense muscles. When it doesn’t work, she gives up and just begins to talk. 

_ Tick Tock, Tick Tock, Tick Tock- _

“It was a few hours- I didn’t know who to call, or how to explain to an ambulance, so I did it alone- and then she was there. I was freaked out, bleeding, and in shock, but I still remember it… she was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.” Vanya remembers, a small soft smile twitching at her lips, “I loved her from the moment I first laid my eyes on her.”

Despite the trauma of the situation, sharing that first Hello with her daughter is one of her happiest memories. 

She shakes herself out of the warm recollection and continues.

“I knew then and there I had to do everything I could to protect her.” Vanya’s voice grows firm with the last sentence, looking up to catch her siblings eyes so they could all see how serious she was, even if her own reasoning was starting to fail her, “That’s why I never told anyone, why I didn’t tell you all. I just- I had to keep her safe. At all costs.” 

There’s a small silence as they take this in, forming their own opinions and questions in response. Vanya can see it happening on their faces. Even Diego’s, which is still facing his lap. He had paused his motions for a moment to listen and digest, and then continued with a furrowed brow.

_ …..Shing….. Shing…..Shing….. _

Luther is the first one to break the quiet, hunched over onto his knees with a pathetically quizzical expression on his face. Vanya thinks that his question must be a big one, from the amount of effort he seems to be putting into thinking about it.

“I… don’t understand.” He starts, meeting her eyes. Vanya nods at him to show that she’s listening and so he asks, “Who were you protecting her from?”

Vanya blinks at him. Her siblings all turn and stare blankly at him, some a touch incredulously. Vanya’s slowly starting to move into that category as well. Out of all the holes in her story, she thought that one was the most obvious.

“Dad.” She answers him anyway, only to watch the confusion on his face triple.

“Dad?” He exclaims, his bafflement clear in his voice. Vanya darts her eyes to her siblings, feeling a bit lost. She finds Diego and Klaus to be staring at Luther with the same amount of ‘_are you stupid?_’ on their faces. Allison’s eyes are more pitying, but not agreeing with him all the same.

“Yes, Dad.” Vanya confirms, bringing her eyes back to his, “I thought… I thought that he would try- he _ would _ take her away from me if he knew about her.”

“What? No, no, he wouldn’t do that.” Luther denies immediately. Diego huffs and stops sharpening, finally speaking his mind.

“Jesus, Luther, how brainwashed are you? He would _ absolutely _ do that.” Diego sneers at his larger brother, who bristles. Vanya’s surprised to hear Diego on her side after the telling off she just gave him, but he doesn’t even look at her, so she figures he’s just in it to argue with Luther.

Luther angrily sputters, “Wh- what reason would he possibly have to take her?”

Vanya feels her insides stiffen again as her mind whispers _ her powers_. This would be a good time to reveal it. But she doesn’t. <strike>She doesn’t want to.</strike> Instead, she stands up abruptly, her arms spread, and bursts out defensively, “I don’t know! Why did he take us? Why did he keep me?”

Luther doesn’t seem to have an answer for that, mouthing soundless words. Vanya glances at the rest of them, and they carefully avoid her eyes. She sighs tiredly.

“Do you remember your first mission? When Dad introduced you to the press?” She asks them, and most of them either look at her, nod, or both, “He called you ‘the _ inaugural _ class of the Umbrella Academy.’ That implies that he always meant to have more. I just didn’t want my Ella to be a part of it or live in this house, even if she didn’t have powers.”

Vanya realizes her mistake a millisecond after the words leave her mouth, but it’s too late. Her eyes widen and her mouth tightly slams shut. The room almost explodes with noise after a moment, after they all realize what she just said.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa-"

“Wait, _ what-?_”

“She has _ powers _-?”

“Holy _ shit_, this is _ messy_, I love it-!”

Through the chaos, Vanya squeezes her eyes shut, and hisses, “Shit.”

The clock, impossibly, seems to get louder.

_ Tick tock tick tock tick tock- _

* * *

After defeating the evil Doctor Coconut-Oatmeal, (Truly one of the most horrendous villains to ever exist,) Ella reluctantly returns her costume to its rightful place, vowing to never forget their time together. Then she carefully attempts to tidy the room up without her powers, since they were the reason it was halfway wrecked in the first place. 

She had tried to keep them under wraps while she was playing, but it was too exciting for them to stay hidden. Even now, after she has unwillingly released some of the energy, her skin buzzes endlessly as if she’s soaked in static electricity. It’ll only take one more zap of excitement to go spiraling out of control. She knows she needs to calm down, so she prepares herself to go back to Mommy. 

Now that the room looks almost like it did when she first entered, excluding the things she accidentally moved that she can no longer reach, she begins her attempt to fix her appearance in the mirror. Her face is pink with exhilaration, so she tries to take deep breaths like she practiced with Mommy and Gramma Cara to slow her heart down. As she does this, she takes her chaotic, mussed up hair out of the hair band. 

Her chest eventually stops heaving as she brushes her hair back with her fingers. When she deems it good enough, if not a little sweaty, she replaces the hairband on her head and nods to her reflection. She looks nearly perfect again. The only thing left from her excursion is a somewhat wild look in her eyes. Pleased with her efforts, she marches out of the bedroom, intent on reuniting with her mother.

If she forgets to pull her hideous shoe back on her foot, well, that’s too bad, isn’t it? She never said she was flawless. Her electric blue sock flashes in the bottom of her eye as she walks, like a victory flag celebrating the defeat of crimes against fashion.

She walks up the stairs, heading toward the lounge where the rest of her family is. It’s really exciting to say that, _ the rest of her family_, so she has to pause to make sure she’s not glowing. She continues on her way after she ensures that she is not, but then spins seamlessly on her shoeless heel and strides in the other direction as the sound of yelling echoes from her destination. She can hear the word “powers” being used a lot. Mommy must’ve told them about her sparks. She had been hoping that they would accept her as she is, but they seem pretty angry. 

(Something in her chest droops, and her lungs are suddenly being squeezed. She recognizes the signs of incoming tears.)

It would be rude, and _ awkward_, to interrupt now. _ Yeah_, she decides promptly, _ Mommy’s busy. _

She roams in a random direction, letting her feet lead her to a place she hasn’t explored yet. The house has an abundance of empty hallways full of interesting stuff to check out, but she somehow ends up in the kitchen. Ella almost enters the room through the (really cool) rough, stone archway, but ducks back behind the wall when she sees that it’s not uninhabited. 

There’s a beautiful woman standing by the sink, humming absently and washing something. The same young blonde woman that had been staring aimlessly into the fire before Aunt Allison came into the room. The one Mommy called Mom. _ Grandma. _

She doesn’t _ look _ like a Grandma is supposed to look, all old and wrinkly and white-haired, but Ella knows why. She had been very confused when Mommy first explained that _ her _ Mommy was a robot. Once she got that down, it took a while for her to stop randomly checking Mommy for signs of being a secret robot. But none of those detection methods would have worked on her grandma; she seems so _ real_. Her skin has a lovely candid glow and her lips are painted perfectly red with no smudges to be seen. Overall, she looks naturally gorgeous without an indication of effort on her part. Ella stands, mesmerized, as her grandmother’s melodic humming soothes her ears. 

Ella’s definitely fascinated by her. And unbearably curious. She leans in on her tip-toes to try and get a better look without alerting the woman.

Suddenly, there’s a shattering crash somewhere in the halls behind her, followed by a far-off, desperate scream. It almost sends the girl tumbling over, despite not sounding very close. Ellie whips her head around, startled. Her eyes dart to and fro, trying to locate the source. She doesn’t find it, but she wasn’t the only one who heard the noise.

“Vanya?” A gentle voice questions inquisitively behind her. Ellie freezes, debating whether to run for it or not. But that would be really rude. She’s always been taught not to ignore people when they speak to her. One could argue that she’s not actually talking to _ Ella_, because she doesn’t know who she is, but Ellie has used enough loopholes to know that it’s a flimsy one at best. 

Plus… she’d really like to talk to her grandma.

So Ellie doesn’t run. Instead, she slowly turns around to see Grace looking at her with soft concern.

“Is everything alright, Vanya, dear?” Grandma asks her, looking worried enough, but also strangely… vacant. Ella, nervous beyond all belief, gathers her strength in her chest.

“I-I’m no- not V-Vanya.” She stammers, her mother’s given name tasting alien on her tongue. She starts internally cursing her anxious stutter for reappearing at the worst time _ ever _. She recalls Uncle Diego saying that he had a few tricks to keep it at bay. Was Grandma the one to teach him? Maybe she would show Ella a few tips too?

“Oh? You’re not?” Grace queries, sounding like Mommy does when she pretends to believe Ella, but actually doesn’t. It doesn’t make her feel as indignant when it’s coming from her grandma, for some reason.

“N-No.” Ella answers hesitantly, “I-I’m her dau- daughter, th-though. I’m your gr-grand-granddaught-ter.”

Grace stops completely, her expression freezing in time. She stares at Ella blankly for a long while, processing. The expression is reminiscent of a loading screen. It starts to unnerve Ellie a bit. Just as she starts to wonder if she should touch the woman to check for life, a soft, wide smile comes over her grandmother’s face. Her picturesque deep blue eyes start to tear up, and Ella briefly wonders if her tears are real or not.

“Oh, goodness,” Grace gasps quietly, presumably overcome with emotion, “Yes, I can see it now. You look so like my Vanya, but so different too.”

Grace falls to her knees in front of Ella’s tiny stature, startling the girl. Ellie starts to try and help her up, worried that she had fallen over like grandmas are known to do, but then gentle, cold hands hold her face between them. She stops, meeting her grandmother’s kind, watery eyes with her own timid, awe-filled ones. Her grandma’s hands are chilled, like Mommy’s almost always are. Ellie always warms her mother’s hands up, so she muses fleetingly on whether it’s possible to do the same for her grandmother.

The smile Grandma wears is profoundly proud, like Mommy’s small grins, but times a hundred. It stuns Ella speechless. She brings one of her small hands up to her face and holds it against Grace’s. The young grandmother’s beam stays fixed, but somehow also deepens. A lot like Gramma Cara’s do, but more… plastic. That’s okay with Ellie.

“You are beautiful, you precious girl.” Grace tells her tenderly in a hushed voice, and Ella’s own eyes start to water, “What is your name, sweetheart?”

A happy tear falls from Ella’s eye, streaking down her face. Her grandma wipes it away, a warm, understanding look in her eyes preventing Ellie from being ashamed of it. 

Ella feels so much at this moment. It feels like being held by Mommy after bad dreams, it feels like falling asleep on Gramma Cara’s lap by the lantern-light while they camp in their blanket tent, it feels like running towards Mommy and Gramma and being spun in the air after she wins her tournament, it feels like milkshakes and giggles at Griddy’s, it feels like tickle fights and cuddles and hugs and kisses and it feels like _ love. _

It’s not the same love. It’s a different kind of love, but it’s love all the same and it’s overwhelmingly, suffocatingly, awfully, terribly, horrifically _ wonderful_.

“M-My name’s Ella.” She finally chokes out, and one of Grandma’s thumbs starts to stroke gently down her cheek. Wiping away more stray tears, Ella realizes. 

Grace’s smile softens a little, and her eyes grow more distant, distracted. Then she returns her attention to Ella, smiling fully again.

“Ella,” She repeats reverently, before her tone shifts to a detached, factual sounding voice, “meaning _ light_, or in English, _ beautiful fairy woman_. In German, it can mean _ all _ or _ other._”

“That… fits me. The English ones.” Ella agrees, amazed. Grace’s smile grows loving once more, her hands falling from her granddaughter’s face with one last tender touch. Ella keeps one of her perfectly smooth palms held in her own small fingers, something which Grace glances down at with happiness. 

“My middle name’s Grace,” Ella adds, wanting to make her Grandma even more happy, and Grace looks back up at her with something that somewhat mimics pleasant surprise, “Like you!”

Grace’s face shifts sharply once again from one emotion to the other. It now looks almost on the edge of crumpling, her eyes full of tearful sentiment. Ella, being a child, does not notice that her expressions always look just _ too _ perfect. She’s entirely too busy soaking up the love pouring from her grandmother to see it. That emotion feels real enough for her.

“Oh, my sweet Vanya,” Grace sighs in wistful contentment, “Always so thoughtful and loving.”

Grace traces her fingertips against Ella’s cheek gently one final time before standing up and looking down at her kindly. Ellie’s hand falls away from her cold one as she places both her hands in front of her body, like a maid awaiting orders.

“Would you like something to eat, sweetheart?” Grace inquires, strolling back over to the counter to continue her task. Ella blinks at the abrupt mood change, but then trots along behind her. 

She looks around, noticing the storefront at the end of the room, which is so _ pretty_, as well as the child-sized utensils and chairs. She smiles at the decorations specifically geared towards children, but the grin falls when she notices a bundle of blurry orbs in the corner. They feel irritated and are buzzing like a hive of angered wasps, so Ella quickly looks away and returns to the odd conversation.

“You… you want to make me food?” Ella questions quizzically, her head tilting as she looks up at her grandmother. The woman looks down at the tiny girl who stands next to her at the sink. 

“Of course!” Grace exclaims, “I always take care of my family, and you are a part of my family.”

Something warm bursts in Ella’s chest, brushing away her fears of being rejected as easily as Grace wiped away her tears. She’s thankful that she is considerably calmer than she was before, or else her sparks would have gone nuts by now.

Ellie understands that sentiment, though. She thinks of her mother this morning, remembers the things she was not supposed to notice. The shaking fingers, the almost untouched food, the way her tired eyes could barely stay open. Ellie really understands Grace’s motivations.

_ Ella is three years old and just home from her fifth Gymnastics practice, ready to play with her new dollhouse that Gramma bought her. When she sprints off to change from her Gym clothes, she leaves Mommy in the living room waiting for her to return so they can start playing. She changes as fast as she can, unknowingly putting her pants on inside out, but when she reenters the room, Mommy is dead asleep on the couch. She didn’t even take off her shoes. _

_ Ella goes to wake her up, but stops. That wouldn’t be nice. The toddler huffs and sets her tiny hands on her hips. The girl sighs with exasperated disappointment, shaking her head, and then she gets to work. _

_ She slowly removes Mommy’s shoes, taking great care to avoid jerking her ankles around. With that done and her mom still asleep, she quietly goes down the hallway to the master bedroom. She comes back dragging the duvet from Vanya’s bed across the floor, jostling and wobbling many tables worryingly. She freezes when the blanket knocks things around loudly, waiting for a moment to see if her Mommy wakes up, and then continues when she’s in the clear. Somehow, nothing topples over, and Ella uses her powers a tidbit to make sure the heavy blanket is set onto her mother perfectly. She needs to be warm and comfy. _

_ Once that’s done, she sighs sadly. She makes her way over to the dollhouse by the window, despondently picking up one of the fairy princess dolls. Who is she going to play with now? _

_ The answer comes to her in the form of an obese brown cat that flops out of the window, into the apartment, from the fire escape. Ella grins puckishly and bounces toward him. _

_ After a fair bit of indignant meowing, hushed scoldings, swatting, hissing, and shushing, a very unwilling Mr. Puddles sits in front of her. She claps her hands quietly in excitement. She then sets the doll with magenta wings in front of him. She’s the green one, of course. _

_ “You be her!” She whispers to him. He doesn’t care. _

"Mreow"_ He says flatly in his low, rumbly voice, and he’s loud about it. She shushes him quickly. _

_ “Shh- quiet! Mommy sleepin’!” she hisses, “you be her- Hey, no, no, no!” _

_ An escape attempt ensues, but Ella drags the grudging cat back to the dollhouse over her shoulder, despite the feline being more than half her size. His ears are flat against his head. _

_ She plops him down next to the dollhouse, shoving the doll towards him firmly. He stares blankly at her. She crosses her arms and tuts at him. _

_ “You’re bad a’playin’.” She scolds him. He has no guilt whatsoever. _

"Mrow." _he meows bluntly again. _

_ “Shhh!” She shushes furiously, pressing a finger hard against her lips, “I be her too, then.” _

_ She scowls at him pointedly, but he still does not care. She scoffs quietly, and then uses her sparks to bring the magenta doll to a very wobbly standing position. She uses her other hand for the green doll, bobbing her up and down to simulate talking. She does the same with the magenta, but it takes longer to go up and down, and the doll often shoots up higher than the dollhouse itself. None of this would be a problem if Mr. Puddles was a better play partner, she gripes to herself. _

_ The two fairy princesses have a nice conversation, not knowing that the magenta one has plans to destroy the green one’s garden. Talk about fake friends. Just like a certain cat she will not name. _

_ Unnoticed by Ella, the cat in question is pawing at something inside the dollhouse. Specifically, the intricately placed and decorated dining table that Ella had set up for a long time before she went to practice. She’s very proud of it. Mr Puddles can probably sense this, because he pushes it. And pushes it again. _

_ Push. Push. Push. _

_ “Yes, I love f’owers too-” Ella babbles quietly in the green fairy’s voice, and then sees the tiny table teetering on the edge, about to fall, and shrieks, “NO!” _

_ She’s too late, and the whole set plunges to the ground. She slaps her hand over her mouth to stifle her enraged scream, but it’s already out there. She stares, wide-eyed, at the traitor. _

_ He, predictably, does not care. _

_ “Mreow.” He says one last time, and then flounces away, flicking his tail at her as he goes. Ella doesn’t try and stop him this time. She just stares at the disaster in horror. _

_ Mr Puddles' folds of blubber flap in the wind as he hops up to the windowsill with difficulty, exiting the apartment with catastrophe in his wake. _

_ Warily, Ella peeks over at her mother to see if she has accidentally woke her up. She lets out a silent sigh of relief. Mommy hasn’t moved, and her eyes are still closed. _

_ Ella reluctantly starts to pick up the mess, regarding her broken masterpiece with despair. _

_ Vanya has a small grin on her face that Ella doesn’t notice. _

Ellie understands, because she takes care of her family too.

“Can you make grilled cheese?” She asks her Grandmother shyly, only to light up at the smile she gets in return.

* * *

While Ella turns away from the raised voices, her mother has no choice but to endure.

Her siblings are yelling, yelling at her, yelling at each other, arguing, and just generally being loud and angry. Vanya can’t hear what they’re saying. The world has slowed down again, but it is also speeding up so fast that she can’t catch up. It’s just her, stuck in the middle of a mess and so, _ so _ alone. She can’t understand what they’re saying, she can’t differentiate their voices from her thoughts from the constant _ noise _ that rattles her to the bone.

_ How could you do this? _

_ Tick tock, tick tock- _

_ I don’t understand… _

_ ...Drip… Pitter… Patter… Drip…. _

_ Why? _

_ ...Shing… Shing… Shing… _

_ Don’t you trust us? _

_ Tick tock tick tock tick tock- _

_ You’re a terrible sister! _

_ Drip drop, pitter, patter, pitter, patter, drip, drip, drip- _

_ What have you done? _

_ Shing, Shing, Shing, Shi- _

_ What kind of mother are you? _

_ Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock- _

_ We hate you! _

_ TicktockTicktockTicktock- _

“Okay,” Vanya finally says faintly, her hands held forward placatingly. She goes unheard through the cacophony. Her heart batters the other organs surrounding it at a frantic pace.

Something builds up inside her through it all, like a lead bubble in her chest that forces its way up her throat. It squeezes her airway, constricting her, and attempts to milk the tears from her eyes that she’s desperately trying to avoid. The arguing gets louder and louder and it chokes her tighter and tighter and tighter until-

_ Tick-Shing-tock-Shing-PitterPatter-Shing-Ticktock-DripDrip-Tick-Pitter-Drip-Shing-tock-DripDrop-PitterPatter-WhyWhyWHy- _

-It finally _ pops. _

Deeper in the house, she can hear-

** _c r a c k_ **

-a sudden-

** _CRASH._ **

“_ENOUGH!_” She screams, her throat ripping apart with the force of it. Her siblings stop short, gaping at her outburst with surprise.

Vanya can feel her chest heaving, her breath coming out hard and short. Her heart beats against her rib-cage in a frenzied rhythm outside of her control. She’s sure she looks slightly crazed; her eyes wide and wild and her face most likely pink with exertion. She pulls in a deep breath, relaxing her entirely clenched body, and falls back into the couch sluggishly. She can taste blood in the back of her throat. Her eyes close and she rubs a hand over them, letting her breath out with a tired, frustrated sigh. At least that damn clock has stopped _ ticking_. She doesn’t know why and she doesn’t care.

It has begun to lightly rain outside. She can hear the sky’s tears drip dropping against the windows.

“Well, _ damn._” Klaus mutters to himself, still sitting beside her, and she can hear him take another hit of _ her _ E-cig. With another burst of irritation, she blindly grabs in his direction and successfully snatches the device right from his lips, causing him to suck hard on the air. She removes her hand from her face and takes a drag, almost missing her mouth because of her shaky fingers. Klaus starts to make a protesting whine, but cuts himself off when she sends him a blistering side glare. She blows the vapor out slowly, watching it dance through the air, then looks up at her still standing siblings. They are staring at her. She’s not surprised.

“Yes, she has powers, and if you all sit back down, I will answer your questions.” She tells them, and then holds up a hand to stop them from arguing immediately when they open their mouths, “_One at a time._”

The dark bags under her eyes feel like barbells, weighing her entire face down.

Luther and Diego grumble slightly before backing away from each other and shuffling back to their seats. Allison goes back to her spot easily, still eyeing Vanya with something like concern. Vanya ignores it, instead digging into her purse carefully to avoid revealing the bottle she stole. She pulls out her pill bottle instead, popping it open and shaking one pill out into her trembling palm. _ Sorry, Cara, _ she thinks as she swallows it down with her drink, _ But I can’t deal with this. _

Vanya sets the glass down, _ clack_, then takes one look at her siblings faces and picks it right back up. She drains it, tipping her head back to catch every last drop. No one speaks while she gulps it down. She swallows hard, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand gingerly, and then decides to go for the one person who she hopes will be more gentle first.

“Allison, you first.” Vanya assents, watching her sister perk up. Diego mutters something like “of course,” but Vanya ignores him and gives Allison her full attention, even going as far as maintaining eye contact. Allison visibly struggles to collect her words for a moment.

“Well, it’s just- I don’t- Why you didn’t call us?” Allison implores, going straight for the hard-hitting question with hurt, pleading eyes, and God, Vanya really misjudged who to ask first, “We could have helped, especially if she’s- well, like us.”

The rain hits the window panes with a bit more force.

“You think I didn’t want to?” Vanya questions caustically, feeling something bitter coat her tongue at the insinuation that she’s not _ special _ enough to raise her child, and her sister cowers slightly, “I did, I really did. I can’t count the amount of times during that first year that I caught myself reaching for the phone, wanting to call one of you for help. Especially you, Allison.” 

Here, Vanya tries to scrape the rancour away from her eyes to send Allison a softer, deeply apologetic look, “But before I could convince myself to do it, I turned around to find my kid floating. That’s when I knew I couldn’t take any chances.”

“She _ floats_?” Luther interjects, disbelieving and perhaps a bit wary.

Vanya looks to him impassively, a little irked at his one-track mind, “Among other things.”

“What I don’t get is-” Klaus starts, but is overruled quickly.

“No, wait, what else can she-” Luther interrupts, but Vanya stops him with one raised finger.

“Ah, Ah. Shush.” She quiets him, creating a hilariously sour expression on his features. She feels like she’s mediating an argument between Ella and her gym friends. It’s ridiculous that _ she’s _ ordering Number One around this way. She turns to focus on her brother on the couch, “Go ahead, Klaus.”

Klaus opens his mouth, looking pleased at the turn of events, but is cut off again.

“But-” Luther objects once more, but stops when Vanya gives him a pointed look with raised eyebrows, and Diego groans.

“Dude, _ shut up_.” Diego complains at him, and Luther bristles again, puffing himself up.

“I’m Number One-” He protests, only for Vanya to stop him again.

“Yes, but it’s _ Klaus’ turn_.” She insists, pointing at him threateningly with pursed lips when he opens his mouth to protest. She raises an eyebrow, a method that is proven to shut down arguments effectively when used on a 7-year-old, and he deflates and falls silent.

“Thank you. Go on, Klaus.” Vanya encourages, turning back to her skinniest brother, who looks astonished at how much she’s doing to allow him to talk.

“Uh, okay, well, I’m just confused about why you didn’t tell us. Did you really think we would all be little tattle-tales to Dad? I’m a lot of things, but I’m not a snitch.” He asks, and Diego raises his hand slightly above his head.

“That’s what I want to know.” He agrees gruffly. Allison nods, concurring. They all look to her expectantly

Vanya can feel a heavy rock in her stomach. She wants to say yes, because while that may offend them it’s better than admitting that she just didn’t want them around her daughter. She hasn’t even really admitted that to herself yet. But to say yes would not be the truth, and she’s been lying too much in her life. Instead, she sighs tiredly.

“I didn’t think you would tell Dad- Well, most of you, at least.” Vanya cuts her eyes to Luther, who remains fixed, so she looks back to Klaus, “I was… paranoid, I guess. I thought that he was monitoring you, keeping an eye on what you did. I know it sounds stupid now, but at the time I didn’t want him to somehow catch wind of her by seeing her with you all. I just figured that I was the only one he wouldn’t bother checking up on. I just… didn’t want to take any risks. I’m sorry.”

Vanya hangs her head, not wanting to see their reaction to her ridiculous, delusional paranoia. She expects them to protest, maybe berate her for being so selfish and irrational. So she’s surprised when Allison gasps. She turns to face her sister, who has a hand covering her mouth, eyes full of realization.

“What?” Vanya questions, her voice sotto voce. Allison’s wide, stunned eyes meet her shameful ones.

“It’s… not stupid.” Allison exhales, making Vanya furrow her eyebrows and tilt her head, looking just as curious as the rest now. Allison continues, looking shaken.

“Right after Claire was born, like, hours, before it had even gotten out to the press, Dad called me. He told me to tell him if Claire ever showed any potential for powers. I hung up on him, of course, but I didn’t even think…”

Vanya feels a swoop of vindication flow through her body, finally feeling justified for her worries, proving her constant pestering doubts wrong, but all she can manage is a small, broken, “O-Oh.”

She was right. She was _ right_. Her mind floods with memories of sleepless nights full of doubt, full of tossing and turning, full of internal fights that lasted hours. The fits of sobbing when her guilt filled her up to the point of overflowing. The questions. _ What’s wrong, Mommy? Why you cryin’? _ But she couldn’t tell her, can’t tell her, her tiny, pure heart would break, she would never forgive her. The midnight trips to her daughter’s room to watch her chest rise and fall, solitary tears streaming down her face, wondering if the helpless, trapped feeling is real or all in her mind. Every tear, every second she spent in doubt, in guilt, it was all for naught because she was _ right_. God, it was all _ real_.

The rain eases, slowing down to a mere sprinkle.

Her siblings are all eyeing her warily, so Vanya clears her throat, forcing her unsteady voice around the lump that has formed, “Well, it’s not like it worked that well anyway. I’m pretty sure she ran into you once, Klaus.”

“What?” Diego cries, confused.

Klaus looks surprised, “Really?”

(“I knew it!” Ben whoops, leaning over his brother to tease him, “The girl in the alley! That was her, Mr. Trash Man!”)

Klaus’s eyes widen in remembrance a moment before Vanya continues, “Yeah, she told me that she met a man covered in trash in an alley with cool tattoos on his hands. I knew you had gotten those, and… well… um, I figured it might be you.”

“Oh yeah!” Klaus perks up with realization, then a wistful expression overcomes his face, “Cute kid. She shared her snacks with me, I educated her on what types of needles not to touch, it was a fair deal. I did think she looked strangely like you, though.”

(“Wait, she knew you were living on the streets?” Ben starts to growl, a dangerous look crossing his eyes. Klaus ignores him.)

“I don’t know what you said to her, but she never complained about getting a shot again.” Vanya tells him humorously, “Thanks for that, I guess.”

“T’was my pleasure.” Klaus chuckles, giving a little bow to her. The corners of her lips twitch up for a split second.

(“Hold on, seriously, did she-” Ben starts.)

“Wait a second,” Diego realizes in an abrasive tone, “So you knew where Klaus was living on the streets, and you chose to keep your secret instead of helping him?”

(“Thank you!” Ben yells, throwing his arms out toward Diego.)

“B-Diego, it’s fine-” Klaus protests, only to be shot down by both brothers, alive and dead, with the same words. 

(“No, you dumb bitch, it isn’t-”)

Nearly the same words. Similar in spirit.

“No, Klaus, it’s not fine!” Diego snarls, unknowingly copying Ben. He glares burningly at Vanya. She tries not to shrink. She does anyway.

“I didn’t know where he was.” Vanya blurts, trying to defend herself quickly, “By the time she told me about it, it had been months since it happened. She only told me when she got sick and she was scared that she had been poisoned by the ‘icky needles.’”

Diego’s glare lessens, but does not disappear, so Vanya sighs and turns back to Klaus, who looks increasingly uncomfortable. This part is actually true, at least, “I went out looking for you for days, but by the time I got there, you were gone. I’m really sorry, Klaus.”

He waves her off, “No worries, tiny little sister of mine.”

(“Okay, but I still don’t like it.” Ben grouses, and Klaus barely keeps himself from rolling his eyes at him.)

Vanya smiles guiltily and touches his arm, appreciating his words but knowing that she should have looked harder, _ could _ have looked harder, but just chose to give up. Klaus smiles softly back, showing no teeth, only forgiveness that she doesn’t deserve.

“Speaking of keeping your secret,” Diego drawls, interrupting their moment, “What the hell was the book about?”

Vanya feels the queasy feeling in her stomach double, steamrolling the hunger pains, and Allison rolls her eyes exasperatedly, “Diego, come on-”

“No, seriously,” Diego challenges, dismissing Allison, “If I was trying to hide my family and keep a low profile, the last thing I would do is publish a book shitting on my childhood. So what gives?”

Vanya huffs, turning to him. The ice that had died down comes back weakly, only a see-through pane. That’s all she can manage for now- she can feel her glass start to fix itself and oddly does not want it to. She wants to cling to the anger and emotions that have been flooding her today. She regrets taking that pill, even if she did need to calm down at the time.

“That book is the biggest mistake I have ever made.” she bites out, and apparently Diego hadn’t been expecting that, because his eyebrows raise and his anger seems to extinguish slightly, “It was a culmination of my therapy journals. I was told by my therapist to write out the things that frustrate me or the things that haunt me- my childhood- and to write it like I was telling my story to someone else. So I did, I wrote every day for a year when Ella was two, and I filled lots of journals. Then, a year later, I got… erm, sort of... _ drunk _ with a friend and decided to send it to a publisher, just to have one last ‘fuck you’ to Dad. It didn’t occur to me then that you all would be dragged into it too.”

Klaus snorts from beside her, “That is a _ hell _ of a drunken regret.”

“Yeah, I _ know_.” Vanya groans, putting her head in her hands, “By the time I realized what I had done, they told me they were going to publish it. I did a photoshoot for the back cover in exchange for keeping Ella out of the media surrounding the release, but I didn’t do any of the extra shit. I just tried to ignore it. It wasn’t the right thing to do, and I’m so sorry, to all of you.”

One bit of that is a lie- but Vanya doesn’t want to admit that she allowed it to happen, that she gave permission for the release. She doesn’t want it to be all her fault, but it is. So she lies. She’s not perfect. Far from it.

Diego crosses his arms and snaps, “Sorry doesn’t fix it.”

Vanya sighs and meets his eyes earnestly, “I know. But... I’m willing to try and make up for it.”

The rain stops completely, and Vanya feels… empty. Hazy. Tired. She doesn’t really remember why she was so worked up before. She doesn’t remember how to be that upset. She just… would really like to take a nap.

They hold silent eye contact for a moment until Luther clears his throat. Diego huffs and turns away, grumbling, and Vanya gives Luther her attention.

“I still don’t get why you kept her away from Dad.” Luther asserts, and Vanya almost splutters along with the rest of her siblings. She doesn’t, though. Instead, she bites back another sigh and waves a hand to silence the disbelieving arguments that pop up around her. 

“Why do you think I shouldn’t have?” She asks calmly, genuinely curious to see how he convinced himself of this.

“Cause- because she has powers! He could have trained her to use them where you couldn’t. He would’ve known what to do.” Luther argues, shaking his head like he can’t believe she’s disagreeing with him, and Vanya can see an echo of bitter annoyance from behind her glass. Diego is starting to resemble a very red pufferfish, so Vanya begins to reply.

“Luther, I am her _ mother._” She tells him in a gentle sort of voice, as if explaining something to a 3 year old Ellie. She continues when she sees his mouth open, “I am her mother, and I am completely capable of taking care of her, powers or not. I am her mother, and _ I _ decide what is best for her, not my father. _ Me_.”

“But he would’ve helped-” 

“I didn’t _ need _ help. Not from him.” Vanya interrupts him in a faintly snappish way, her breath starting to come in harder in the facsimile of angry irritation. She can’t feel it- she can only feel the empty space where it’s supposed to be. In reality, this isn’t upsetting her at all. But she _ wants _it to. She needs to feel what their words are doing to her. She needs her feeling back, so she desperately tries to shake herself up internally, like an asleep limb. She takes a drag of the E-cig, hoping that it will push against her glass. 

“He would’ve shown her how to use her powers! He would’ve told her when to use them!” Luther insists, one hand gripping the entire armrest next to him and the other tapping his fingers rapidly on his knee. Vanya points to him with the E-cig in her crossed fingers, vapor swirling from her lips.

“Ah, but that’s not helping, Luther. That’s _ training_.” She points out, and then guesses what he’s going to say before he can, “It’s not the same thing.”

Luther purses his lips shut so hard that they turn white, silently fuming, so Vanya knows that she guessed correctly. She continues to explain with a didactic tone.

“I don’t want her to be trained- I want her to be happy. I want her to live a normal childhood- or at least a good one. I don’t want her to be forced into things she doesn’t want- I want her to be able to choose for herself how she wants to use her powers. If she wants to learn more about them, if she wants to ignore them, if she wants to use them to help people, or if she wants to use them to rob banks- I don’t _ care_, because it’s _ her choice_.”

Luther looks like he is about to burst out into an argument, but Vanya holds her hand up again with a pointed look, and a frustrated growl is quickly strangled back from his throat. She can feel something filling her up inside once more. She can very nearly feel the echo of what it is- determination. 

“I didn’t want that man near her. I didn’t want him to control another person I love while I stood there, helpless. Not again.” Vanya states firmly, a ghost of a hard look in her eyes, “So I did everything in my power to make sure that he would never get the chance.”

Vanya can’t even begin to determine what the look on Luther’s face is, besides frustrated, before Diego cuts in again.

“What can the kid even do? I mean, what are her powers?” Diego asks loudly, barging into the conversation with Luther. He effectively distracts Vanya from her older brother’s tense aura. She turns to him, feeling anxiety fill her upper body.

It’s funny that the only emotion she can clearly feel on her medication is the one it’s supposed to prevent.

Vanya swallows, “...Gravity.”

Allison raises an eyebrow and repeats, “Gravity?”

“Yeah.” Vanya exhales, “She can do a lot of things, but it all centers around gravity.”

“What sort of things?” Luther demands. Vanya cannot suppress the small eye roll that she hides from his sight.

“Almost everything.” Vanya answers brusquely, “She can control gravity, if you want to put it simply. She can manipulate it, decrease it, increase it, _ create _ it around herself, redirect it, sense it, and recently she’s been saying that she can even see it when it’s ‘not acting right,’ but she says it looks like blurry greenish blobs, so she might just need glasses. She has an eye doctor appointment next month.”

The last remark is mostly for herself, since no one else could actually benefit from that information. Her siblings trade stunned looks with each other, seeming a little apprehensive of her daughter’s powers. Klaus lets out a low, nervous whistle beside her.

“That’s one powerful kiddo.” he remarks, exchanging his own look with something unseen behind him before turning back to Vanya. She hums, leaning over to grab Ellie’s backpack on the ground. Luther follows her movements and his eyes lock onto the colorful pack, as if he had not noticed it until now. It’s actual physical proof of a child being here.

“She might give a little demonstration- I asked her to hold back on using them until I explained, so she must be bursting with energy right now.” Vanya says, pulling out a sealed bottle of apple juice from her child’s backpack, just in case she wants to try the adult’s ‘apple juice.’

“Does it build up, or something, when she doesn’t use it?” Allison queries, looking slightly concerned. Vanya tilts her head in a so-so motion.

“It can go haywire if she gets angry or excited, which are basically her two modes,” Vanya chuckles, and surprisingly Allison gives her a knowing smile and nod, “She’s usually really good with control, but she’s been… really excited to meet you all. She’s been waiting a long time for this day.”

Vanya avoids everyone’s eyes after that softer admission, instead slipping her E-cig into her purse after one last drag. The _ hiss _ and _ pop _ are louder within the pregnant silence. Then she sits back up, looking at all her siblings. She’s too tired to read their expressions. She lets the vapor out on a sigh, knowing she must say one last thing.

“Look, I know I’m probably not your favorite person right now-” Vanya starts, and is interrupted by Diego’s snort, but she just keeps going, “-but no matter how you feel about me, please don’t take it out on her. It was my choice to do this, not hers. It’s not her fault.”

“Of course not, Vanya. I- _ we _ would never.” Allison replies, aghast. The guilt presses harder against Vanya’s lungs, but she accepts her sister’s answer with a grateful nod. She can see Luther non-verbally agreeing, and then Diego scoffs.

“Despite what you might think, Vanya, we’re not bad people.” He declares contemptuously. Allison narrows her eyes and tuts at him, arms crossed.

Before Vanya can decide whether to be thankful that he won’t be nasty to Ella or outraged at his words, there’s a clattering noise on the upper level. It sounds like something glass hit the floor without breaking. Everyone’s head snaps to the sound, including hers. Then there’s some muffled fumbling. Luther opens his mouth, but Vanya beats him to it, knowing _ exactly _ who is up there.

“Ella?” She calls, drawing an irritated glare from Luther, but realization starts to dawn on his face, “Is that you up there?”

There’s a small pause, then a high, childish voice that she missed way too much yells back, “Yeah!”

“What was that sound? Are you okay?” Vanya asks, shouting up to the second level. She can already sense her internal glass cracking just from hearing her girl’s voice, to her relief. A smile tries to wrestle onto her face, but she holds it back for now.

“Yeah, it’s okay! I fixed it!” Ellie calls back confidently, still out of sight.

Alarm bells go off in Vanya’s head. She suddenly no longer wants to smile. Instead, she sort of wants to curse, but she doesn’t, she just yells, “Fixed what?”

“Uh- Nothing!” Ella hesitates, replying vaguely.

Vanya stands up, trying to catch a glimpse of where Ellie is, “Ella, what broke?”

Ellie pops her head over the railing, looking perfectly innocent in her ‘I just totally did something’ sort of way. Vanya can hear Klaus give a happy gasp, and Luther muttering a soft _ oh_, but she doesn’t move her eyes from her very suspicious daughter. Her hands find their way to her hips.

(“Oh... my… _ God._” Ben almost weeps out, looking entirely too choked up with emotion, “She’s so _ small…” _

Klaus flicks his eyes to him, conveying a strange, questioning look without drawing suspicion.

“Dude.” He mutters flatly to his ghost brother, judging him. Ben turns to him, and oh God, is he actually _ crying? _

“She’s a _ baby_.” Ben warbles, completely different from the dick who called him a dumb bitch earlier. Klaus furrows his eyebrows at him again.

“We’ve seen her before.” Klaus points out under his breath, and Ben flounders for a moment while he tries to explain his reasoning. He keeps glancing back up at the girl, his new niece.

“Well, I didn’t know she was _ my baby _back then!” Ben insists, sniffing. He turns away from Klaus completely to gaze at their newest, smallest family member present.

Klaus rolls his eyes and tunes back in to the conversation. Give the sarcastic bitch a child and he turns into a puddle of useless goo. Figures.)

“Nothing! It’s fine, I fixed it.” Ellie answers her mother sweetly, her hands behind her back.

“Fixed _ what_?” Vanya questions again insistently, ignoring what must be Allison behind her covering up a snort.

“My little niece!” Klaus cuts in, spreading his arms out around him like he’s offering a hug. Ella inhales sharply and hurries to press her body against the guardrail so she can see him better.

“Uncle Klaus!” Ellie cries, delighted, with wide, sparkling eyes and a happy beam, “Hi!”

She reaches over the top of the rail, which is an increment taller than her armpits, and waves down at him with difficulty.

“Hello, Ellie! Do you still sit at the cool kid table?” Klaus asks her, a smirk on his face, expecting a reaction. He’s not disappointed.

There’s a shocked, excited gasp, and then big, enthralled brown eyes peer down from over the banister.

“You remember me?” She questions hopefully with a breathy voice.

“Of course!” Klaus exclaims, “How could I forget you?”

Ella squeals happily, beginning to, literally, jump up and down and clap her hands together rapidly in a display of overjoyed glee.

“Ellie, what did-” Vanya starts, but then Ella drops down to the ground to look through the twisted metal rods, figuring out a smarter way to see below. She glances to the other side of the room and starts waving ecstatically, gripping one of the bars with her free hand to keep herself upright.

“Hi, Uncle Luther!” She hollers, her enthusiasm starting to affect her volume.

“Uh-” Luther stutters back, looking like he is refreshing himself on how to speak the English language, “H-Hi.”

“Ella, I’m being serious,” Vanya interrupts sternly before the conversation goes any further, “_what did you fix?_”

“I got you grilled cheese.” Ella changes the subject, holding up a plate from behind her back that, indeed, has two slices of Vanya’s favorite kiddie food. Vanya is going to rip her hair out.

“Wha- Why did you- Where did you get that?” Vanya splutters before finally landing on a question. Ellie shrugs.

“Grandma.” She answers simply. 

This child is going to give Vanya an aneurysm someday, she swears on it.

“Grandma? You met Mom?” Vanya repeats for clarity, and Ella nods. Vanya can hear Diego sit up slightly.

“Yeah! She was really nice, but she thought I was you at first,” Ellie explains, “Then she said that my name means ‘light’ or ‘beautiful fairy woman,’ and that’s perfect for me! Right, Mommy? Is that why you chose it?”

“Sure,” Vanya agrees passively, raising a tired but sharp eyebrow, “But I thought I told you not to talk to anyone?”

“Yeah, but... didn’t you say Grandma’s a robot?” Ellie tries, turning her foot in and shifting guiltily.

“Yes, she is, but she’s still a _ person_.” Vanya scolds, giving her daughter one of the many disapproving looks that she has in her repertoire. Ella’s body sags, adopting the pleading posture that she does when she knows she’s been caught out.

“Okay, fine, but I was _ bored _ and _ curious _ and you were _ busy_,” Ellie whines to her mother, who stands unpersuaded with crossed arms, “Plus, I wasn’t even trying to get her attention! She noticed me first, and it would’ve been rude to ignore her, right?”

Vanya rolls her eyes, “We can talk about this later, how about you come down?”

“Okay!” Ella agrees happily. Vanya turns away so she can return to her spot, which she had been drifting away from as she spoke.

Allison suddenly makes a protesting noise from her throat, too shocked to voice her words, and holds out a hand towards Ella while shooting to her feet. Vanya whips back around to see Ella with one leg over the banister, getting ready to heft herself over. Her girl is paralyzed with a bewildered look on her face as the rest of the family start voicing their dissent.

“Hey! Whoa, Whoa, Whoa, kid-”

“What are you _ doing_-?”

“Holy shi- Oh, fuck, probably shouldn’t swear-”

_ Oh my God! _ Vanya thinks, ... _ Where the fuck did her shoe go? _

“_Ella Grace!_” Vanya shouts over the din, almost barking it. The family quiets once again from her commanding tone. Ellie turns her gaze to her with actual innocent eyes this time.

It probably says a lot about Vanya’s home life that the first thought that comes to her while watching her child dangle herself off a ledge is about the location of a missing shoe instead of pure panic.

“I thought you told them?” The girl asks, confused at all the fuss.

“Yeah, I did, but that doesn’t mean you can start jumping off of things!” Vanya counters exasperatedly, pointing towards the entrance hall, “Take the stairs like an actual _ civilized _human being!”

Ella grunts and complains, grumbling, “You’re no fun,” just loud enough for Vanya to hear, but removes her leg from the railing nonetheless and goes stomping away towards the staircase. 

Vanya huffs out an long-suffering breath and returns to her seat. Strangely, she still feels much better than she did before Ella returned, even if her beloved child brings possible heart attacks with her.

Luther grunts, and Vanya glances at him tiredly.

“Does she- uh, does she jump off of things a lot?” He asks, sounding somewhat terse and uncomfortable. Vanya tilts her head back and groans.

“_Yes._” she agrees passionately. Luther looks somewhat concerned, but Vanya can see Diego smirking in the corner of her eye. Asshole. He probably finds her suffering funny. Allison gives her a commiserating look, an actual understanding in her eyes from her experience in motherhood.

“And is she always that much of a handful?” She inquires knowingly. Vanya rolls her head toward her lazily, grins halfheartedly, and laughs a little.

“You have _ no idea._” She replies, chuckling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .....It is 12:25 am. I did it.
> 
> Please tell me what you liked about this chapter! How do you feel about the Big Family Reveal? Even if you just tell me your favorite part/scene, I will be very happy! Comments make my day, and they help me judge how well I'm doing story/plot-wise. Also I just love hearing from you! Tell me about your week! I don't give a fuck! I just want out of this lonely abyss for a bit!
> 
> Personally, my favorite scene to write was Vanya getting...ahem, overwhelmed, but Ellie being a goofball on her own gets me every time. I was in tears from laughing at the Mr. Puddles scene when I came up with it. 
> 
> BIG THANK YOU TO MY SUPPORTIVE TUMBLR READERS! Especially betsyscreaming (Aka jace_diaz_of_hell on Ao3) for cluing me in on rich text, which saved me HOURS of work! A lot of my followers on tumblr said that they'd stay up to see the chapter, so here it is! Idk if your tired brains can process it, but you can try!
> 
> Speaking of, follow ellagracehargreeves on tumblr for updates on this fic and occasional manic sleepover parties.
> 
> .....I'm going the hell to sleep. I hope to wake up to feedback, even if it's just a kudos or an emoji or something! If not thats okay tho.
> 
> Good fuckin night yall.  
[EDIT: fixed the weird italics spacing! I will get used to formatting this stuff one day!]


	8. Demonstrations and Accusations.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ella reunites with her whole family! She shows them all exactly what she's capable of, and Luther struggles with his entire worldview.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...Hey. It's been two months. But I'm back! I took a two week break around Christmas, and it was a bit of a struggle to get back into it. But I'm here now, and so are the Hargreeves and their emotional struggles! This chapter is from Luther's POV, which was hard to write in tbh. He's a simple character, but also super complicated at the same time.  
Just in case the next chapter doesn't come out before Season 2: This story most likely won't be season 2 compliant. Just so you know!  
Anyway, I hope you enjoy! And I'm so sorry for the wait! Follow my tumblr, ellagracehargreeves, if you want to hear my excuses and complaints as I write. I love hearing from you all!  
See you in the end notes!

Luther Hargreeves is…. Confused. Fundamentally so. 

This isn’t how things are supposed to go. His siblings are supposed to follow him, the first, without question. Well, that never happens, but that’s how it's theoretically supposed to work. And Number 7… She’s not supposed to… do anything. While she is his sister, she’s simply… not as important as the rest of them. And of course it sounds bad when he thinks it, but that’s just… the way things are supposed to be. Now, though? Luther feels like he’s questioning the fact that the sky is above him and the ground is below.

And it is. Isn’t it? It wouldn’t be surprising to find out otherwise right now.

That’s just the natural order of things: The sky is blue, the grass is green, the earth is round, he’s Number One, and Vanya is ordinary and quiet. These are supposed to be indisputable facts. But the last half-hour has made them, indeed, very disputable. 

**About Half an Hour Ago.**

When Allison tells him about Vanya having a daughter, he’s surprised, but not very alarmed. 

_ “Well, I might not have Claire with me, but if you want to see a kid, Vanya brought her daughter.” _

_ “What?” _

He’s caught off guard, that’s for sure. But he reasons that if Dad didn’t tell him, because of course Dad knew, it probably wasn’t information that he really needed. It must’ve been pretty recent for him not to know about it. He gets a bit excited to see a baby. (He might be scared to hold them for fear of hurting them, but Luther really does like babies. They’re so tiny and precious and innocent. And adorable.)

But then Allison says that the girl looks to be older than Claire, and Luther’s reasoning falls flat. He wonders why Dad would keep the existence of his niece from him when he already knew about Claire. Still, he tries to reassure himself, he must’ve had a good reason. A reason Luther will never hear from his father’s lips. Grief starts to puncture his lungs once again, so he sets out with Allison to discover what happened, feeling unsteady without his father’s guiding hand to lead him through the mess.

So he finds Vanya, who looks at him with the now-familiar wide eyes when she sees his body, and demands an explanation. So far, everything is normal, barring the unexpected child. Klaus makes stupid comments, Diego argues, Allison tries to mediate, and Vanya stutters out answers in a meek, terrified voice. This is expected.

Then Vanya falls over, which isn’t as expected, because despite not being like them, Vanya has always had a strong constitution. Nothing really fazes her. It’s something Luther respects her for. But low blood sugar is a thing, so Luther can put that aside. Also, she’s smoking, or something, which Luther can’t really put aside, but he swallows the questions for now in the spirit of tackling one problem at a time. Then Klaus does something stupid and irritates her, but that’s usual, and he keeps them on task as a good leader does. Even if Klaus is being annoying toward him too. Idiot.

But then things start to twist around and normality starts to distort.

Vanya tells them that her child was born like they were. She tells them that she was not pregnant on the morning her daughter was born.

Luther doubts it immediately, despite Vanya’s truthful face. How could he not? For one, it’s _ horrifying_, and that feeling only thickens and spills out onto his expression as Vanya begins to describe what she supposedly experienced. And more importantly, if it really happened, Dad would know, Dad would _ tell _him. So while his sister does look somewhat traumatized as she answers a pale Allison’s questions, he can’t help but be doubtful. Dad would tell him about it, of course he would. He’s his Dad’s Number One, after all. 

So when Diego, of all people, voices his inner thoughts, Luther can’t do anything but silently agree and then silently fume about said agreement. He would rather do just about anything instead of endorsing his stubborn asshole of a brother, so he doesn’t say anything to give his support. Just agreeing with Diego in his mind is torturous enough.

Then reality continues to bend with even more pressure, pushing against the boundaries of common sense. Everything he knows starts to slowly unravel. And it’s all because of Vanya. 

She changes. 

Her face, which never changes that much from its soft, quiet state, hardens into a glacial iceberg cold enough to freeze the sun. It’s unbearably familiar and it _ hurts _ but it’s _ wrong _ because it doesn’t belong on her face. <strike>(It belongs on _ Dad’s-) _</strike> It’s unsettling and it makes his thick skin crawl because it’s completely _ wrong_. If she had been like them, that look would have stopped criminals dead in their tracks. But Vanya isn’t like them. It isn’t right.

She clips out her words in the same dangerous tone that Luther unreasonably misses, but the expression breaks (thankfully) as Diego hurls his abusive doubts at her with venom. Luther wasn’t going to do it like that, he was going to approach it like talking to a mentally ill person since she’s obviously a little delusional, but the doubts are the same. 

Vanya, despite the vulnerable slip, regains her fury in a less controlled manner than before, like a winter storm. Then, in an unexpected move, she begins to undress, which throws Luther for a loop. He doesn’t know why she’s doing it, but she’s furious and upset and though Luther knows that it’s normal for human beings to have those emotions, that’s not right, Number Seven isn’t like this, she doesn’t act out irrationally because of her feelings, not like this-

Then he sees the scars. Her scars.

His stomach twists painfully.

His actuality begins to unspool at an even more alarming rate, like a fragile length of thread going around and around and around, undoing the hours of careful work it took to wrap it around the reel in a few fleeting seconds.

His own mangled flesh under his clothing burns at the sight, calling out to its kin. 

He can physically feel the color draining from his face.

At first he’s like all the others, taking in the map of mutilated skin with silent disbelief. But then he’s sweating out of shock and unexpected fury, because something _ did this to his sister. _

But she told them what did it. It’s true. This is evidence.

And then Luther feels sick, he can feel the bile rushing up his esophagus with an unrelenting pace, but not because it’s sickening to look at. It’s because she’s like him, now, all disfigured and disgusting and _ flawed, _ and he never ever wanted someone to feel like he does. He wouldn’t wish it on his worst enemy, much less someone he cared about. Number Seven might not be part of the academy but she’s still his sister and _ she does not deserve this_.

Vanya seems to realize what she has done, and Luther starts to realize something beyond his horror.

It’s evidence. It did happen. And Dad never said a word about it to him.

The knowledge sits within him like a parasite, unwelcome and unwanted. _ Why, Dad? Why didn’t you tell me? Was I not good enough to know? _

He tells his sister to go on, trying to shed the realization from his mind, but it stays. He needs to know now, he needs to know what Dad told her to do.

Her story continues, but she doesn’t say anything about Dad, only that she had to protect her daughter from something, and that’s why she never told anyone. 

It’s the first time that it occurs to Luther that the others aren’t confused because of Dad’s silence. They’re confused because of _ Vanya’s. _ But that doesn’t matter right now, because he’s missing something. If she had to protect her child, surely Dad would’ve helped, would’ve taken her in?

It slowly starts to dawn on him that…. Perhaps… Dad…. _ didn’t know-? _

So he asks. And he’s faced with incredulous looks that he doesn’t understand. Vanya answers him, but only succeeds in tripling his confusion.

According to her, she was protecting her daughter from _ Dad. _

That doesn’t make sense, but Vanya claims that Dad would’ve taken her child away. Luther mentally concedes that he would, but obviously with Vanya’s consent! Which she would give, right? Dad wouldn’t just _ kidnap _ the child! 

He doesn’t say that out loud, though, and only denies it. Diego butts in, and that angers him as always. Luther demands her reasoning, which seems to cause her to snap. She springs up to standing position, her arms thrown out to her sides.

Then Vanya asks, _ Why did he take us? Why did he keep me? _ And Luther has no idea. He has no earthly clue. He never asked. It’s just something that _ was, _ with no reasoning. He never thought to question it.

He wishes he could ask his Dad. He would’ve had a reason. He always has a good reason.

Vanya tells them she did not want her daughter to have anything to do with the Academy, which Luther doesn’t understand, but then she accidentally says something that leaves him with nothing left to hold onto. 

Her child has _ powers. _

They’re all arguing now, and-

His reality is turned over on its head, finally completing its nauseating flip, and it doesn’t seem to want to right itself.

Luther just wants to figure out what the child can do, because that’s the most important part. That’s what Dad would want to know. Luther just needs to get the information, and then Dad will fix it-

_ Oh. _ Grief hits him like a concrete wall, which, if childhood memory serves, is not pleasant. 

Dad’s gone. 

His throat tries to close up, but he doesn’t let it. It’s his job to fix the messes now. He’s Number One. 

Still, no matter how loud he yells his questions and his pleas for order, no one listens. They keep arguing with each other, sometimes yelling at Vanya, who is shaking and pale, almost iridescently translucent. 

Actually… she doesn’t look okay. Her skin looks nearly pearly, but Luther can’t tell whether it’s from fearful sweat or something else. Her eyes are vacant, as if her mind is forcibly somewhere else. Her pupils are slowly getting more and more blown, and it’s getting harder to tell them apart from her dark irises.

Just as quickly as he notices her, Diego gets in his face and says something about how it must be taking a lot of his brainpower to process this, and Luther is immediately distracted. Where does Diego get off, disrespecting his authority all the time? It’s not his fault that Dad liked _ him _ better than Number Two. Soon, they’re arguing just for the sake of it, not noticing the tension about to break.

It all ends when Vanya, because _ who else would it be today, _ screams out for it to stop, her voice somehow resounding into every corner of the room, possibly into every space of the house. They all cease because of the commanding tone that resonates through them all with a strange energy that Vanya simply _ should not have. _

She orders them back to their seats and selects people to speak one at a time, even though that’s _ his job _ and she shouldn’t be doing it at _ all, _ much less as well as she is. 

Even though she doesn’t let him talk first, he learns that the child floats, which makes him wary, because that sounds like a big, hard to train power, especially starting this late. Her answer to his inquiry, _ Among other things, _only perpetuates his trepidation. He’s sure she’ll let him ask next so he can figure out just what they’re dealing with.

She picks _ Klaus, _of all people, which isn’t right. So he tries to take control back. But-

She. Won’t. Let. Him. Talk.

It’s _ extremely _ frustrating, and it’s humiliating once Diego pitches in. Vanya has this warning look on her face that he’s almost _ scared _ to disobey, (But he’s not, that would be stupid,) and so he’s forced to suffer the slight against him in silence while Klaus asks his _ idiotic _questions.

His other siblings continue the discussion, all of them sounding in agreement on how much they tried to hide from Dad, even Allison! Which is ridiculous. He’s their _ Dad, _what reason could they have to want to avoid him so much? And what’s so wrong with a Father checking up on his new grandchild? Luther doesn’t understand the mutual feeling of trepidation that’s being shared around the room.

It’s revealed that Klaus has encountered their niece unknowingly before, which makes Luther’s chest tighten with a sickly feeling that feels like jealousy. He’s not sure why. Maybe it’s because he could have reported to Dad had he caught it earlier. That doesn’t seem to fit right, but he doesn’t dwell on it.

Then Vanya apologizes for her book, which is- well, it’s irrelevant, but it does feel nice. That book _ hurt. _

Then, _ finally, _Luther can ask what he needs to, he can ask why she felt the need to shelter her daughter from their father when all he could’ve done was help. 

His siblings all make irritated, spluttering noises like he’s stupid for asking, but Vanya doesn’t. She seems calmed down from her earlier outbursts, _ plural, _ and she gently asks him why he feels like she should have. 

While that question is akin to _ Why should I use the toilet _In his mind, he is hopeful that her open tone will allow him to finally correct her misconceptions.

He’s wrong.

She derails his arguments calmly, like they don’t even deserve her consideration, which is actually the most normal, Vanya-like behavior that Vanya has shown this entire time, but he _ hates _it. 

She won’t agree with him, even though he’s obviously right, and she keeps saying things that make complete sense when she voices them, but they _ aren’t, _ they _ can’t be. _ She can’t do things by herself, she needs Dad, they all do, _ he needs Dad- _

_ Raising and training aren’t the same thing, _ is what she basically says, and Luther knows that, of course he does, but when he thinks about it, he struggles to find any differences between the two. Of course they’re different, but he doesn’t know _ how. _

She says she wants her child to be happy. That sounds good to him. His dad must have wanted him happy, right? That’s why he gave him orders.

She says she wants her daughter to make her own choices. That doesn’t make sense to Luther. A parent is supposed to make decisions for their children so they don’t do wrong. They’re supposed to make sure their children don’t _ have _to decide between choices. Right? That’s why he feels like this, so lost, because his dad is gone and he’s swimming, drowning, in a world full of unending choices and that isn’t how it’s supposed to be, right? He doesn’t know how he could cope if it is.

The way she puts it sounds nice. Her words spin his nightmare into a dream. It sounds amazing to be that free, for a mother to want her child to have that kind of freedom. But Luther doesn’t know what he would do with it, that free liberty, he doesn’t know what he wants. And besides, it’s wrong.

Right?

He tries to tell her that, but she doesn’t let a sound leave his mouth. He’s ashamed to say that he almost loses composure with the constant interruptions, a frustrated growl trying it’s best to fight up his throat, but he holds it back at the last second and clenches his fists. It wouldn’t be befitting of a leader to lose control of his emotions. 

But he’s starting to doubt if he even _ is _a leader at this point. Everything else he knows is in question, why would that be the exception?

She says that she didn’t want her daughter near Dad, talking about him like he’s some sort of villain. But he’s _ not, _why can’t they see? He’s seen real villains, all of them have, even Vanya has indirectly, and Dad isn’t like that. He isn't. Luther’s sure of that.

...is he sure?

He wants to ask his Dad. Dad would know. But he can’t. 

Luther is so frustrated with <strike>his doubt</strike> his sister at that point that he’s almost grateful when Diego interrupts their conversation. He never thought he would think that way. Then again, he never thought his ordinary sister would have a child, let alone a child with powers.

Diego redirects the discussion to Luther’s original question, the exact nature of the girl’s powers, so he decides to shove the frustrating <strike>doubt</strike> conversation to the side to focus on the important thing. Just how powerful is the child? What needs to be done to rectify the situation?

Though it is probably something Dad would say, Luther finds that the thought leaves a bad taste in his mouth. The ch- His _ niece _ isn’t a _ problem _ that necessarily needs to be _ rectified, _ so to speak, but he needs to- well, something has to be done, doesn’t it? Vanya isn’t like them, she’s ordinary. She doesn’t have the skills and understanding to deal with abilities like theirs. Not like Dad does. Did.

But Dad is gone <strike>(Luther’s chest squeezes tight)</strike> so that just leaves him. And he’ll do right by his family, by his niece. He’ll give his sister the help that she obviously needs. Even if she says explicitly that she doesn’t need any assistance. She’s wrong.

Vanya looks tense when she answers, only saying the word _ gravity. _ When Luther orders her to elaborate, she looks faintly annoyed, and he’s somewhat glad that his feelings toward her are reciprocated.

And then she starts listing. And listing. And listing.

Luther can feel his eyes widening as she goes on, like his siblings around him, and his veins seem to constrict with every new power she rattles off. The possibilities and consequences of every ability she mentions builds up to form a gargantuan brick wall of intimidation, dwarfing his admittedly large form with the complexity of this assignment. His brain stutters to a stop as he tries to process what it means.

Klaus whistles and says something about the kid being powerful, and for once Luther agrees with his junkie brother.

No matter what Vanya says, she needs _ help. _There is no way she can possibly handle that much power in a child by herself.

She says that her daughter will probably show them her powers, since the energy builds up in response to emotions. Luther nods, because he’s trying to follow what emotional reaction might mean for the way her powers work, and he wants to see what the child can do.

His eyes follow Vanya’s movements when she picks up a sparkly, pink and purple backpack that is too small to be hers. It’s probably the child’s. A _ child. _

Luther doesn’t think he has processed the fact that his new niece is actually real and here yet.

Vanya asks them not to take out their anger with her on her daughter- _ Ella. _

Putting a name to the idea makes it a bit more real to Luther. She’s not just a powerful child. She’s his niece. She’s Ella. Or Ellie, he guesses.

Luther agrees. Ella is an entirely different person than Vanya. One does not equal the other. Which means he has no idea what to expect from her. She’s an unknown, and more reconnaissance is necessary before he can get a solid grip on what she is like, what threat she poses.

Then there’s a clattering noise from the upper floor, and Vanya interrupts him _ again _ before he can assess the situation, but it’s the girl herself. The girl who they’ve been talking about. The reason his entire understanding of the world is distorted beyond recognition right now.

She looks just like Vanya. She’s an anachronism- her looks do not belong in this time, they’re displaced.

But they’re not- She might look almost exactly like little Vanya, but her eyes hold endless swirls of mischief and playful innocence. She stands barely as tall as the guardrail with her hands behind her back, looking like the perfect picture of harmless naivety, but there’s a spark of troublemaking in her eye. She’s hiding something, but not in a fearful way. She looks goofy and amused and happy in a way Vanya never was. 

It’s so paradoxical that Luther lets out a soft _ oh _against his will, but neither the mother nor the daughter seem to notice. Vanya tries to scold the girl, but she evades the questions with ease, like she’s done this many times before.

Then Klaus distracts her, and she greets him back joyfully, which is to be expected, because Vanya said they had met. What Luther didn’t expect was for her to turn and greet him with the same enthusiastic energy, as if welcoming back a long lost friend. It takes him a moment to properly respond because of his surprise.

Then Vanya takes the conversation back, _ again, _ and after an even more confusing exchange, she tells her daughter to come down. Said daughter tries to come down a faster way, (Which, by the way, _ holy shit,) _ but is quickly corrected.

Which leads him here. **Now.**

The confusing child- Ella, Ellie? Whatever, doesn’t matter- comes bouncing into the lounge from the entrance hall, looking entirely too much like her mother, like _ Vanya_. But while she looks like his sister, she certainly doesn’t act like her. Her face is filled with a sunny disposition and a beaming smile that she directs towards them all. She walks without a care in the world, like she doesn’t know any of the rules. Dad wouldn’t approve. Which means he shouldn’t approve… But… she looks happy.

She has a spring in her step as she practically flounces over to her mother with the plate of Grilled Cheese in her hands, somehow not spilling it even though her entire body doesn’t seem to possess an ounce of structural integrity. The way she moves reminds him of jiggly Jell-o, the one time they were allowed to have it. _ Maybe that’s part of her powers? _ Luther wonders, following her with his eyes as she reaches the couches. He can see everyone else doing the same. 

She only has one shoe on. Why is she missing a shoe? Dad wouldn’t like that. They’re supposed to look presentable at all times. Ella doesn’t seem to pay it any mind, though.

Ella turns her head to Klaus, presumably to give him a smile or something, but then she falters. Her feet almost trip over themselves as she stops, sending the plate forward in a worrying way, but she doesn’t drop it. She simply stares in silence, not at Klaus, but at the space behind him. She is looking up as if she’s meeting an adult’s eyes. Luther can’t see her face from where he’s sitting, but it must be confused or troubled, because she’s no longer exuding that strange brightness. It’s like a lamp’s intensity fading into a lower light.

(“Dude, is she looking at me?” Ben asks, standing stock still. Klaus can’t answer without someone seeing, but of course she isn’t. That would be ridiculous. Ludicrous, even.)

“What’s wrong, honey?” Vanya asks with a small head tilt, looking somewhat troubled as well. It’s weird to hear Vanya say something like that, something their own mother would say. Ella glances toward her before returning to the spot she’s focused on.

“There’s… another thing there,” Ella answers distractedly, her voice high and childish, (And sounding so much more _ alive _than Vanya’s ever did, sounding the same but so different,) her head leaning in a little as if she’s squinting, “A blob thing.”

Luther straightens. That has something to do with her powers, from what Vanya said. It must be, because _ he _ certainly can’t see anything there.

(“Dude, she’s _ looking at me_." Ben mutters, something like excitement dawning in his eyes. Klaus still can’t say anything, but he subtly shakes his head, not wanting his brother to get his hopes up.)

“A gravity blob thing?” Vanya inquires, her eyebrows furrowing minutely in concern, and her daughter nods absently, “It’s not acting right?”

“Yeah…” Ella responds faintly, her mind still preoccupied with the thing she’s seeing, “But it’s…. It looks… different…”

(Ben hesitantly waves his hand out to his side, his eyes zeroing in on the tiny girl in front of him.)

Ella’s head turns to her left, as if following something with her eyes. 

(“She followed it! Did you see that?” Ben exclaims to Klaus, whose mind is blank except for the word _ What. _ Ben starts to jump a little against the couch despite not being able to brace himself against it.)

“Well, you said that they all feel different, right?” Vanya prompts, and Ella turns to her and nods, “What does this one feel like?”

“Uhm….” Ella trails, looking back to the space where the unseen thing is.

(“She can _ SEE ME,_ Klaus!” Ben whoops, still hopping, trying to push against his unresponsive brother’s shoulders but only phasing through, “How the hell can she _ do that_-?”)

“...Excited?” The girl seems to guess, “Confused? I dunno, but it’s not bad, like the other ones.”

There’s a small silence as the girl peers at something they can’t see.

(“CAN YOU HEAR ME?” Ben screams, his hands cupped around his mouth. Ella doesn’t react, but Klaus flinches and sends him a dirty look under the guise of trying to see what she’s looking at. Ben shrugs sheepishly.

“Guess not.” He says apologetically. Klaus rolls his eyes and turns back.)

“Well... that’s good, isn’t it?” Allison speaks, sounding uncertain. Ella jolts a little and turns to her, as if just remembering she’s not alone with her mother. Luther can see her smile at her aunt, and Allison returns it with a small one of her own.

“Yeah, I think so.” His niece says, brightening a bit again. She shakes her head to rid herself of the situation, and then walks the rest of the way over to her mother and sets the plate she brought onto the coffee table in front of Vanya. Her hands make their way to her hips, just like Vanya’s had when confronting her on the upper level.

“I brought you food,” She states firmly, “You gotta eat.”

Vanya smiles a tight grin, no doubt aware of all the eyes on her, and says gently, “Thank you, baby, but I’m not hungry.” 

Ella hmphs and crosses her arms, looking as stern as a 7-year-old can. Luther looks around the room, and Diego is the only one who looks more amused than perplexed, the corners of his lips tipping up with incredibly bemused eyes.

“Yeah, you are,” The child insists, “You’ve got shaky fingers.”

She then pokes at Vanya’s hands, which are in fact trembling, but Vanya tucks them into her arms and hunches over a little.

“I’m fine, sweetie.” Vanya denies again, which seems to frustrate Ella more. She gives out a tiny huff.

“You didn’t eat breakfast.” She lectures her mother in an exasperated tone that does not match the high pitch of her voice at all.

“Yeah, I did!” Vanya protests.

“No, you had, like, 20 cups of coffee and, like, two bites of toast.” Ella counters.

Vanya opens her mouth with a disgruntled expression, probably to argue against that exaggerated number.

“Wasn’t it you who said that we have to eat a full breakfast to get energy for the day?” Ella reminds before Vanya can say a word, mockingly putting a hand on her chin as if in thought, “Does this mean I can have Fluffer-Nutters for breakfast?”

Vanya purses her lips, cornered, and has a silent staring contest with her daughter. Luther can hear Diego quietly chuckling and trying to hide it. Allison has a surprised eyebrow raised at the girl’s attitude. Apparently, Ella wins the stand-off because Vanya takes half of the sandwich and bites into it. She holds the rest up while chewing it as if to ask, _ Happy now? _

Luther never considered Vanya to be stubborn and argumentative, but now that he can see the same attributes in her daughter, he wonders if he might have to rethink what he knows about his sister, along with the rest of his life. 

Ella flips her stance immediately, plopping herself between her mother and Klaus with a large, pleased smile on her face that Luther can finally see. She watches her mother for a minute until she swallows with visible difficulty, as if making sure she won’t spit it out while her back is turned. 

“Thank you, Mommy,” Ella says sweetly while pressing a kiss to Vanya’s cheek, ignoring the fond grumbling that she gets in return. The girl then turns to Klaus, and her firm attitude fades away to reveal excited anticipation. She looks to be practically _ whirring _ now.

“Hi, Uncle Klaus.” She greets again shyly with an almost ducked head, a far cry from her earlier excitement now that she’s face to face with him. She simultaneously leans forward earnestly and tries to keep distance between them, her eyes flicking up at Klaus’ face with hope and avoiding eye contact at the same time.

Klaus, looking somewhat dumbfounded for some reason, merely waves his hand that reads “**_HELLO_**” at her while staring with wide eyes. She lets out a stifled squeal at the sight of the tattoo, her hesitance fleeing away immediately.

“You still have words on your hands!” She exclaims, gently taking his hand so she can trace the letters with awe. Klaus lets her do so without protest, and she continues, “I drawed you a bunch-”

“Drew.” Vanya corrects, and Ella pinches her lips without looking back at her mother.

“_Drew _ you a bunch,” Ella adheres, “That’s how I ‘membered you. I’m _ really _sorry for not knowing you were my uncle when I met you! If I knew, I would’a invited you over so we could play n’ stuff!”

Klaus seems to escape his stupor, but does not take his hand back. His face returns to his blithe attitude and he dismisses flippantly, “It’s alright, liebling nichte. I bet we can have some fashion shows together now that we’ve met.”

Ella smiles softly, now holding Klaus’ hand properly, and he wraps his long fingers gently around her small hand. The girl turns to her mother with beseeching eyes, as does Klaus with a similar expression. It’s strange how mirrored they look, considering that they’ve only met once before and don’t actually share any blood.

Vanya takes the double assault in with wide eyes, most likely feeling trapped under the identical pleading gaze. She swallows the nibble of grilled cheese she has been working on and nods weakly, biting her lip and looking away.

“Sure.” She agrees feebly, sounding like she doesn’t know how else to get out of this. She glances around at them all timidly, awkwardly, “You’re all- you can visit, if you want.”

They all nod at her with varying degrees of the same awkwardness, except for Allison, who looks like she is going to take full advantage of that offer. The child doesn’t seem to notice the tension.

Ella perks up and kicks her legs to rid herself of the excess energy from her excitement, turning to Klaus with a victorious, hopeful look and a beaming smile. Klaus gives her a small smile in return with soft eyes, softer than Luther has seen them in a very long time, if ever.

Luther clears his throat. They still have a funeral to plan, even if there’s an extra person attending that they weren't aware of. He opens his mouth to speak, but he’s interrupted, _ again_, by an excited squeal.

“_Ooh_, Uncle Luther!” Ella cries, “Did you really live on the _ moon?_"

Despite really starting to _ despise _ being interrupted, Luther feels a bit of pride at how irreverent Ella’s tone is.

“Uh- Yeah.” Luther confirms hesitantly, if not a bit smugly, “Yeah, I did.”

“_Whoa,_” Ella’s big, wide eyes are glittering, like the far off stars in the dark, empty void of space. It’s familiar to him but out of place, and somehow no less beautiful. It’s even more so, in a way, because unlike the lifeless stars, Ella’s eyes hold untold amounts of emotion. After four years of empty starlight staring back at him, his niece’s eyes feel almost too intense for him to look at.

“Mommy said you were, but I just wanted to make sure. I made sure to say goodnight to you, though! I said goodnight to the moon _ every night_.” Ella informs him firmly, “I know you couldn’t hear me, but it’s not really a good night unless someone says ‘goodnight’ to you, an’ I wanted you to have good nights.”

Oh. _ Oh. _

Why does he feel like he’s just been punched in the gut? His lungs feel void of breath no matter how much he tries to fix it.

Luther can’t speak. Ella’s intense eyes are infecting him, shoving a suffocating warmth into his chest, past the scars and the revolting hair without ever stopping to judge. It squeezes at his eyes as if to draw tears out, but that isn’t acceptable, so he doesn’t let any form. He might be able to stop his tears, but he can’t keep the emotion from spreading from his chest into his very blood. He’s so… _ touched. _

To think, all those years spent alone and so, _ so _ lonely, there was at least one person looking up and thinking of him. He wasn’t sure if anyone cared. But now he knows there _ was_. This one tiny person who he didn’t even know existed looked up at the sky every night and wished him a good night, all because she didn’t want him to suffer. He… He can’t speak.

It’s starting to hit him that he has a niece, a real one, and she’s not just an idea. She actually cares about him for some strange reason. What did Vanya say about him to deserve this much love? He doesn’t want to disappoint the expectation that she’s set.

“Uh- Ahem- um, Thank you, Ella.” He says anyway, struggling to push his words past the tightness in his throat. Allison is looking at him with a knowing smile, as if she knows exactly what he’s feeling. The warmth in his chest strengthens.

His tone comes out a bit patronizing despite his genuine gratefulness, but Ella doesn’t seem to mind. She preens under his praise and sends him a blinding, yet softly loving smile that doesn’t help his emotional predicament _ at all. _ He clears his throat while ducking his head to his chest. He needs to move past this before it overwhelms him. There’s more they need to discuss, and there’s more he wants to know.

“Um, Ella- Ellie? Your- uh, Mom said that you have powers, is that right?” He questions, and his niece nods a little, looking suddenly timid, “Could you- Uh, I mean- Would you show us what you can do?”

Ella tucks her legs up onto the couch with her and releases Klaus’ hand to wrap her arms around them. She looks hesitant and unsure of herself now, making herself smaller on the seat, her eyes not looking up from her lap for long.

“I don’t know…” She trails off, glancing around at them all with a dubious expression. Vanya’s eyebrows furrow and she turns her body to face her daughter, a hand coming up to brush down the side of her face gently, reassuringly.

“What’s up with you, Baby? Not that I’m complaining, but I thought you’d be bursting with energy by now.” Vanya worries.

“Oh, I _ am_.” Ella assures, dropping one leg down below her and displaying her hand to everyone, “See?”

Gradually, but then all at once, Ella’s hand starts to _ glow. _ It radiates a greenish color, and it’s quickly followed by the rest of her visible skin. Her skin was already pale before, slightly paler than Vanya, even, but now it’s almost _ translucent. _ Luther can see some of her veins in certain places, the green of the glow staining them an odd color. Instead of looking sickly, the green radiance somehow makes the child look healthy and warm, just soaked in pure _ energy, _ unfiltered _ power. _

Allison lets out a choked gasp, and Diego sits up straighter along with Luther, who leans forward slightly. Klaus does not move, only widening his eyes once more. The aura of the glow seems to be filled with a stuffy feeling similar to static electricity, just waiting and building up for the touch of metal. Luther can feel it from where he’s sitting. Vanya winces a little in sympathy.

“That’s a big build-up, but I’m not surprised. You’ve had an exciting day.” Vanya says, still running her hand down her daughter’s glowing face with no hesitation, “Why don’t you want to let it out?”

“Well…” Ella begins, swinging her one dangling leg and lowering her head a little, “I was gonna come back earlier, but I heard yelling, so I went to the kitchen and met grandma instead. But… I heard you all saying something about powers, and you guys seemed so _ angry…_”

Vanya seems to know where this is going, because her gaze becomes compassionate and sad, “Oh, _ baby…_” 

Ella swallows and finishes, mumbling, “I don’t wanna show you my powers if you’re angry about ‘em, or somethin’”

“We’re not!” Luther blurts out loudly in his haste to reassure her so she’ll show them her power. She jumps at his volume and snaps her eyes to his, so he clears his throat, trying very hard to keep his wince internal, and says more quietly, “We aren’t angry.”

She doesn’t look convinced. She dodges his gaze after he’s done, her shoulders so tense that they are practically earrings, but she turns to Diego when he starts to speak.

“We’re not angry that you’ve got powers, kid.” Diego grunts, glaring at Vanya for a moment, who is ignoring it with impressive resolution, “We were just surprised because we didn’t know about it.”

Ella’s arms leave her leg and come around her own tiny body, holding herself. Her shoulders unwind the tiniest bit, only to slump down in a weird tense in-between movement. She speaks from a still dropped head, “Really?”

“Yeah, new stuff can be scary,” Klaus says from beside her, one of his arms resting on the back of the couch over her body. He’s not touching her, but he’s leaned in close in the facsimile of comfort with an easy, relaxed grin on his face. She gives him a small but doubtful smile before turning her eyes down again, her swinging leg seemingly trying to cross with the one still up close to her on the couch.

“Remember what I said in the car?” Vanya asks, still running her hand through her daughter’s hair, and Ella turns to her curiously, her entire body loosening at the sound of her mother’s gentle voice, “I said they might be surprised, because I didn’t tell them. It’s my fault, baby, not yours.”

Ella nods hesitantly, but still doesn’t seem to want to demonstrate what she can do. Vanya wraps her arm around her small body and pulls her closer for comfort, but Ella still looks conflicted as she hugs her mother back, her tiny brow furrowed and her eyes staring at nothing in thought.

Luther glances at a nearby grandfather clock, starting to get a bit desperate. Before he can simply tell her to show them, Allison gets up from her seat. She slowly makes her way towards Ella, and then kneels in front of her. The child follows her movements with wide, uncertain eyes as she sits up straight, away from her mother to meet her aunt.

Allison brings her hands up to hold Ella’s, but hesitates when she sees the glow that’s still there. Ella almost wilts a little, but stops her dejected expression when Allison takes both her hands into her own anyway. Luther can see that she jerks back a little at the assumedly strange feeling but forces herself to hold on. 

“All of us have powers, Ella,” Allison reassures softly, “No matter what you can do, you’re still our family. You’ll always be our family, no matter what.”

“You mean that?” Ella asks, almost in a whisper. Her eyes seem set on a specific part of Allison’s cheekbone, only glancing up to meet hers once, scared to see the answer displayed there.

Allison nods steadfastly, “Yeah, I do. Of course.”

Ella’s face slowly unfolds into a smile, her shoulders finally decompressing fully, and her eyes start to brighten once more as she finally meets Allison’s gaze head-on. Steadily, still holding Allison’s hands, her body rises off the couch just a bit, the glowing aura around her skin strengthening into a more solid mint green. Allison must have made a face, because Ella looks down and notices what she’s doing with a small ‘Oop!’ noise.

“Oh, sorry!” Ella apologizes, twisting her face in concentration for a moment before she drops back down and the glow extinguishes, again avoiding Allison’s eyes, “Didn’t mean to do that.”

“It’s okay,” Allison reassures, sounding a bit surprised, and Luther faintly echoes her. He’s… He wasn’t expecting that. If that’s what she does on accident, how much is she capable of on purpose? Either way, Ella is able to grasp the final reassurance she needed from the words.

“Okay.” Ella says half to herself, dropping her other leg down below her as Allison goes back to her seat with one last smile, “Okay, I’ll show you. Can I, Mommy?”

Vanya makes an aborted movement to pinch the bridge of her nose, reluctant, “I guess, but-”

Ella dives off the couch immediately, heading for her backpack and digging through it. Luther trades looks with Allison and, regrettably, Diego, all of them also looking confused as he is. He can see Allison looking at Klaus, too, and surprisingly his brother looks to be actually following the conversation and seems befuddled as well.

“What are you looking for?” Vanya asks with a questioning lilt to her voice, sounding somewhat perplexed at her daughter’s behavior. Luther is strangely relieved that she is lost too, finally.

Ella glances up at her to answer, “I gotta find something to use, right?”

“Oh, okay, hold on, I think I have something here.” Vanya nods in understanding, even though the rest of them don’t get it, and picks up her purse to rifle through it. Well, there goes his relief. Vanya is back on top of things, and he’s left in the dark.

(None of them, save Diego, notice when Ella slips something from her waistband into her backpack. When Ella looks up to find Diego watching her, Diego keeps any expression off his face, but winks at her. Ella’s face splits into a mischievous, conspiratory smile. Diego grins a little at her in return before looking back to Vanya, and Ella does too.)

Vanya finds something with a small exclamation of victory and then holds out multiple tubes of lip balm towards the child. 

“Pick your victim,” She offers. That’s kind of a worrying thing to say, but she seems to be joking. At least, Luther hopes she is.

"_Coconut,_” Ella growls as if the coconut flavor has murdered her wife and children, spurring a decade-long crusade for revenge that has ruined her life and made her into an unrecognizable monster. _ What... _

“Okay,” Vanya accepts this simply, so it must be a normal occurrence, and glances down to replace the rest of the objects back into her purse, “Now, what do we- Ah, ah”

Vanya holds the tube further away as Ella tries to snatch it from her, holding up a finger towards her daughter much like she had to Luther, demanding patience. Actually, that’s exactly what she did. Did she really treat him like a child? And did it _ work? _

“You have a big build-up, Ella, it’s gonna be harder to keep control,” She tells the increasingly impatient child, “Now, how do we let it out?”

“_Mom-_” Ella starts to whine, stomping one foot without actually picking it up from the ground.

“I want to hear you say it,” Vanya interrupts sternly, “How do you let it out?”

“Like a faucet, not a fire hose,” Ella recites, slumped over and grumbling, “I know this, Mommy, I can do it.”

Luther is confused again, because that sounds like it’s actually helpful when it comes to training. How did she figure that out without talking to Dad? Is there someone else who knows about extraordinary abilities? Who else could have experience with extraordinary kids? Luther looks around, and Diego is nodding consideringly, approvingly. He can’t seriously think that Vanya is capable of this?

“And if your nose starts bleeding?” Vanya questions, ignoring Ella’s protest.

“It _ won’t,_” Ella objects, but then- when she sees the look on her mother’s face- quickly says, “If it does, I’ll stop.”

“Good. Be careful.” Vanya relents, finally handing over the tube, which is swiped in the blink of an eye, “Go ahead.”

“Okay,” Ella rushes to the front of the room, the doorway behind her, so they can all see her. She looks like she’s taking the center of her own stage. She takes a deep breath, readying herself. Then she looks at them all individually, as if wordlessly asking if they’re sure. When she reaches Luther, he nods, and while that does tip the corners of her lips up, she doesn’t begin until she receives a nod from Vanya. _ That isn’t a disrespect, _ Luther tells himself through the ugly feeling of being ignored, _ Vanya’s her mom. _

“Okay,” Ella sighs to herself again, now rubbing her hands together. If he listens closely, he can hear a peculiar crackling sound, somewhat like electricity. She sets the lip balm upright on the coffee table before backing up, not yet using it for anything.

“Well, Mommy probably told you, but my power is gravity,” Ella starts nervously, glancing up to see everyone nodding in the affirmative, “So, I’ll start with the little stuff first, I guess.”

Ella starts to shift from one foot to the other, and her hands begin wringing instead of rubbing. Her fidgeting seems to increase before their eyes, like energy building up.

“Uh- um, I can see sometimes when gravity isn’t acting right, like over there,” Ella waves a hand towards Klaus’ direction without looking up from where she’s staring vacantly at the coffee table.

(“Wait, does that mean she can see other ghosts too? I guess that could be the other blobs,” Ben wonders to himself out loud from where he’s leaning against the back of the couch, watching his niece intently, “But she said that I looked different- What do you think that means?”

Klaus shakes his head, not bothering to be subtle this time. That’s too much thinking for him while he’s sober. Well, this sober, at least. Ben rolls his eyes and scoffs, knowing exactly what that particular head shake means, and returns his eyes to the girl at the center of attention.)

Ella’s chin raises and her chest puffs out the smallest increment, her eyes meeting theirs unblinkingly and slightly sparkling again “An’- and I can kinda feel when gravity is being used, like I c’n sense it. Which means I’m the _ best _at hide and seek.”

“It means you _ cheat _ at hide and seek.” Vanya objects, correcting her with a coy little smile peeking from her lips, and Ella relaxes a bit more to roll her eyes at her mother.

“I _ adapt. _ It’s not cheating.” Ella denies, and everyone looks around at each other at the familiar words. Luther’s siblings even stiffen a little.

“It really is.” Vanya protests, not sounding serious at all, nor acknowledging the knowing looks being sent around. Ella gives her mother a dirty look, to which she receives a tongue being poked out at her. The little girl scoffs and looks away.

“Whatever! Anyway, the other stuff,” Ella shuts her down, and Vanya leans back into the couch with a relaxed, pleased smile, “Sometimes, when I’m scared an’ stuff, I can put my momen- momentu- uh, the force that makes me move? I can put that in my hands and release it. It makes my palms light up a bunch.” Here, Ella gives her mother the stink eye, “We’re not sure about that though, and Mommy won’t let me _ test it._”

Luther looks to Vanya, along with Allison and Diego, and even Klaus, to a lesser extent. Vanya looks over when she feels the eyes on her, for once unbothered by it, and defends herself with a roll of her eyes.

“She means I won’t let her jump off of buildings so she’ll get adrenaline.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, It’s _ unfair,_” Ella dismisses once more, flapping a hand in Vanya’s direction, and then she starts wringing her palms again, “Okay, now the big stuff....”

Luther feels himself sit up straighter because this is what he has been wanting to know this entire time. The air seems to seize with anticipation.

“Uh-um…” There’s a small, nervous tremor in her voice now. Ella’s shifting increases, one foot actually leaving the ground as she leans on the opposite. “Well… I’ll just show’ya.”

With a glance around at them all, Ella kicks off the ground with her foot (The one that actually has a shoe on) and goes flying up into the air. Her nervousness seems to suddenly melt off of her expression, revealing a carefree smile. They all jump at the stomp and stare at the seemingly effortless display of power.

“_Woah!_” Klaus yelps when Ella goes soaring, and the girl giggles happily at his reaction while she does a lazy flip, no forces pulling her down whatsoever. It’s strange to look at, like a marionette being lifted up into the air with no strings attached. There’s no visible indication of power that Luther can see other than the bright, healthy vitality of her skin, but he can’t tell if that’s a side effect or due to her exuberance. There’s an odd hum in the air, along with a strange sort of energy that leaves him feeling both at peace and unnerved.

“I _ know!_” Ella agrees enthusiastically, “I don’t even have to use my sparks for this!”

“Your sparks?” Allison asks, still staring at her niece in wide-eyed, slack-jawed amazement.

“Yeah, hold on-” Ella replies, twisting herself effortlessly in the air until she’s upright about a foot above the ground, then she glances up at them with a flash of an impish grin, “This is the biggest part of my powers.”

She holds out her arms in front of her as if reaching for something. She stares forward with her eyes squinted and narrowed in concentration, and then it happens.

Luther feels like he’s watching in slow motion, and he can see each of the events happening within a split second, one at a time. The invisible energy that Ella seems to radiate from her being intensifies, and for a millisecond Luther can see a thick, almost solid but still transparent green barrier around her hands before it folds in on itself and _ combusts- _

Bursting into bright green sparks, small lines of miniature green lightning strikes, just as she said.

It looks like they exploded out of her skin, but they didn’t- they’re not actually touching her skin. Luther can see it. They glide above her flesh, less than a millimeter above it, but still not touching, somehow separated by an unseen shield. The electricity slides down both of the girl’s tiny hands, slipping down like water off a duck’s back. The bolts fall from her fingers and fade into nothingness a split second after leaving her digits.

Ella lifts both her hands in front of her eyes to look at them, a proud grin on her face. She begins to bob up and down slightly in the air, and her hair jolts up for second before falling back down as if her concentration is fading. Or perhaps she’s just excited. Luther doesn’t know, he’s kinda stunned right now. 

She looks back at Allison, who is also stunned and even more wide-eyed, and holds her hands out in front of her with her fingers spread. Allison flinches, probably expecting a blow of some sort, but Ella doesn’t notice, she’s showing her aunt the electricity slipping down the backs of her palms.

“See?” Ella demonstrates, wiggling her fingers, “These are my sparks. I use ‘em to move stuff.”

“Uh-huh,” Allison squeaks faintly, her eyebrows far up on her forehead. She reaches out to pick up a filled glass that had been waiting for her when they arrived and takes a heavy drink. Diego must’ve poured it for her, judging by the fact that there was no such drink waiting for Luther. Ass. She sets the glass on a nearby end table, swallowing thickly while looking up at her niece.

“Uh- Move things?”

“You can move things too?”

Luther and Diego speak at the same time, but Diego doesn’t even glare back at Luther when he turns to him, his full attention on the girl. This annoys Luther to no end for no reason at all, and he’s even more annoyed that he doesn’t know why he’s annoyed. It’s annoying.

“Yeah- here, look,” Ella says, and then the sparks brighten, giving out more light than normal electricity does. They start to connect between her fingers, making a barely audible _ zapping _ sound, looking like a bright green taser each time they touch in between her fingers and over her hand. The odd energy in the air washes over them all, and Luther feels an odd feeling of falling in his insides, similar to what he imagines a rollercoaster would feel like. He wouldn’t know, he’s never ridden one. He doesn’t have the mental capacity to ponder it, he’s stuck staring at the sparks that litter Ella’s hands as they get brighter and brighter-

But the sparks also triple in quantity, and-

Tiny flashes of thin green lightning blink around the coffee table as the side closest to him starts to rise up into the air, tipping everything on it and sending the various objects tumbling to the ground.

(“_Holy shit-_” Ben jumps back, even though he is nowhere near the table and, oh yeah, _ a ghost,_)

“_Woah!_” Diego yells as he shoots up to his feet, running over to try and catch some of the things that are piling onto Vanya and Klaus. Allison also stands, but hesitates, glancing up at her niece.

“Crap, sorry!” Ella worries in the air, curling her fingers to her sides while slamming her eyes shut, her entire face scrunching in concentration. Her hair slowly starts to rise above her head, like she just jumped into a pool. It ripples as if slow sea waves are traveling up the locks.

“Fire hose, Ella, Fire hose!” Vanya shouts to her daughter, managing to save the plate of grilled cheese but not much else. She’s only just able to keep her empty glass from shattering before it hits the floor but is forced to abandon it to try and catch other things. Klaus rescues his drink from plummeting, but then leans back and doesn’t even attempt to help, his eyes laughing.

“I know, I know, I’m trying-”

Luther places both his hands on the higher end of the table and pushes down. It is surprisingly difficult, feeling somewhat like the time Dad had him push a full train car, but eventually, he slams the furniture back down to the ground, the resistance against him breaking. The odd feeling and energy in the air snaps away immediately.

Ella falls hard to the floor from where she was floating, landing on one knee, her sparks snuffed out for the time being. She holds one hand to her head and groans as she unsteadily stands back up. Vanya looks like she wants to dump everything on her lap to the floor to rush over to her, but Ella doesn’t look towards her, instead, she’s staring at Luther with shocked awe.

“How did you _ do that?_” She blurts out, but then shakes her head to clear it and continues before he can answer, “Sorry, I mean, thank you, but that was _ cool- _How’d you do that?”

He glances at Vanya, confused and not knowing how to talk to children, but she’s still looking over at her daughter with worry in her eyes. He turns back to Ella, whose curiosity is so strong that it almost jumps out of her eyes and takes physical form.

“I- uh, I have super strength.” He stumbles out, and Ella’s huge eyes widen, somehow, and start to glitter, “It’s my power.”

“That’s so _ awesome!_” Ella shouts enthusiastically, jerking a few inches above the ground with what he assumes is thrilled excitement. Luther chuckles unintentionally, not able to stop himself because of her delighted reaction.

“Thanks.” He says, a smile wrestling onto his face in response to her own beam filled with admiration.

“Mommy didn’t tell me what your powers were, any of you.” Ella’s face scrunches in displeasure, and she continues with a mocking tone, “She said I would get nightmares.”

Vanya rolls her eyes and stops scanning her daughter, deeming her to be fine if she’s being passive-aggressive, and starts to pick up some of the knick-knacks that were knocked over.

“Why?” Allison asks curiously, and Vanya stops her tidying to glance over at her. Then she looks around at the rest of them, who are also looking at her, and wordlessly points over to Klaus. Oh.

Allison dips her head in an understanding nod, “Ah.”

Vanya nods back and begins to pick things up again, just setting them on the surface of the coffee table for now.

Klaus smiles languidly, “That makes sense. I give myself nightmares sometimes.”

Luther scoffs and rolls his eyes, and the other two siblings seem to dismiss Klaus as well, but Vanya stops her movements to softly place a hand on her brother’s arm.

“Not you, Klaus, just your power. It’s scary to think about.” Vanya reassures quietly. Klaus’ grin tightens.

“Sure, Van-Van,” He replies, sounding cynical, patting her hand lightly with the one that still holds his drink, “I know it is, _ trust me._"

“What _ is _ his power?” Ella interrupts, sounding like she has asked this many times, still floating just enough so she can swing her feet below her without catching her toes on the floor.

“Are you sure you can handle this right now?” Vanya says instead of answering, lowering her hand from her brother’s arm hesitantly, “We can just tell them what you can do-”

“No!” Ella objects abruptly, her sparks snapping back onto her hands, “I’ll fix it, watch-”

Ella twitches a few fingers, and the sparks connect together and zap once more. They begin to brighten rapidly.

Vanya yelps, “Ellie, _ careful, _ this stuff is _ fragile-_” 

But by the time she says the second word, everything from the table is floating in the air above it, including the plate that was yanked from her hands. Everyone stares up at the objects, and when Luther looks over at Allison, he can see the green sparks that are flashing around them reflected in her wide, dark eyes, like streaking comets in the night sky.

With a few careful twitches of her digits and many strangulated noises of protest from her mother, Ella rearranges the things in the air back to how they were set on the table before, approximately. She even balances the plate of grilled cheese without spilling it. Eventually, Ella lowers the objects to about half an inch above the surface and then lets go of them, sending them falling down with a quiet but harsh _ crash_. Luther winces.

Ella beams at all of the gaping adults staring at her with a proud smile on her face like nothing's wrong. 

“There! Fixed!” Ella proclaims confidently, clapping her still sparking hands together. The noise snaps them all out of their collective stupor, except for Vanya, who is already looking at her daughter with a warning glint in her eye.

_ “Ella-” _ She starts to growl but is cut off.

“Nice work, kid,” Diego says, gazing at his niece with a soft-ish half-smile that looks strangely proud. He ignores Vanya’s glower as Ella glows from his words, but not in the literal sense this time. She smoothly does a slow backflip like a dolphin underwater, kicking her legs like she’s swimming, laughing to herself with a happy smile. Her wavy hair hangs down as she turns over, but then slowly glides back in place as she returns right-side up. She quickly pushes a headband that he hadn’t noticed before back down on her head from where it had slipped.

“Thank you!” She almost sings, also ignoring her mother’s expression, or at least trying not to look, “Now I can show you what I can do for real!”

Diego holds his hands out as if handing the attention back over to her, and sits back down to watch the show. Slowly, the rest of them follow, with Vanya still looking like she wants to stop this. This isn’t right, though. Luther’s the leader, so it’s _ his _ job to control the flow of the meeting, not Diego’s.

“Yeah, Ella, go ahead.” He offers loudly, causing Ella to glance up at him from where she was already getting started. She stares at him with giant doe eyes, and Luther tries to control his embarrassment and block out Diego’s snort that he doesn’t even try to hide. At least Klaus had the decency to do it into his glass.

“Oh, Okay… I was gonna.” Ella points out, gesturing around her hands, oblivious to the fact that he already knows that. The force of his internal cringing feels like it flips his organs inside out.

“Yeah, well… go on then.” Luther attempts to say in a strong voice, but it comes out as a mumble. Diego snorts at him again and Luther tries to remind himself why he can’t beat his brother’s face in right now. He can’t find any good reason. He probably shouldn’t do it anyway. 

Ella, with her attention now back on the original target, flexes her fingers on both hands. Then she slowly reaches her right hand out towards the lip balm, the bolts of electricity starting to join together again. The tiny tube rises up into the air aimlessly, miniature replicas of Ella’s sparks flashing around it.

“Okay, so I can move stuff around, but it’s not as easy as it sounds,” Ella begins to explain, her eyes following the floating object, “First, I have to make gravity- the earth’s gravity- let go of it, like this, so it just floats without going anywhere. If I wanna make it go somewhere sp-specif- If I wanna make it go where I want it, I gotta shift its weight.”

The lines of light brighten, the tube swerves to the right, and the sparks dim to their original state. They brighten again, and the tube jerks to the left. Ella maneuvers the object faster until it sways side to side seamlessly, and Luther can barely notice her sparks dimming in between the movements.

“It’s like… I make gravity work in sp-speci-fic -ha!- specif-ic spots so it pulls it in that direction. It’s like pulling someone side to side on a sled with a string,” The girl describes, drawing her family’s eyes back to her from where they were tracking the lip balm. The object comes closer to her, and they all have to look up to see it. Ella’s floating at an adult’s height. She points something out as if teaching them a lesson in a classroom.

“You see the little sparks all around it?” She asks them, and then looks around, expecting an answer, apparently.

“Yeah,” Luther says along with his brother, and of course _ now _ Diego glares when they speak at the same time, but he continues, “What are they? Is it just because you’re using your power?”

“Well, it would usually be invisible if I wasn’t, but still there. It’s the gravita- gravitation- gra-” Ella struggles, her lips pinching and her nostrils flaring. Tiny crinkles form on her forehead.

“Gravitational field?” Luther supplies, rather helpfully in his opinion. Even so, he’s treated with glares and dirty looks from Diego and both his sisters, and Klaus winces soundlessly without looking at him. What did he do?

“Ye-yeah. That.” Ella sighs, sounding discouraged, and _ what the hell did he do?? _ But she quickly shifts back into a pleased tone, “My sparks are controlling it. That’s how I came up with my new superhero name!”

“Superhero name?” Vanya questions with a furrowed brow, so this must be new, “When did you come up with a superhero name?”

“Earlier today,” Ella shrugs, a proud smile on her face, “I’m The Spark-! Oops!”

Ella pumps a fist into the air with exuberant excitement, forgetting the hold she has on the object, and the tube of lip balm rockets up towards the ceiling. Their eyes all follow it as it hits the top of the room with a _ ponk. _ Dust sprinkles onto Ella’s hair like soft snow.

There is now a tube of lip balm embedded in the ceiling.

“I’ll get it!” Ella volunteers, shooting up after it before Vanya can get one syllable of her name out in protest. Instead of trying harder to be heard, Vanya sighs and shakes her head, burying her face in her hands with a long-suffering air.

There’s a stunned silence while they all try and digest what they’ve seen, barring the noises of Ella fighting to free lip balm from the plaster. It looks to be buried somewhat deep. Vanya removes her face from her hands and sighs again, looking like she wants to put her head right back into her palms.

Allison turns to face Vanya, looking less stunned and more processing. She huffs in disbelief and says faintly, “Bathtime must’ve been a nightmare.”

An abrupt, somewhat hysterical burst of laughter escapes Vanya, and she quickly slaps her hand over her mouth to try and catch the rest. Manic giggles can still be heard despite her effort. She manages to shove the noises back enough to put her hand back down.

“It’s _ worse._” She admits, looking only a little less traumatized than she had when explaining her ordeal, “This isn’t the only thing she can do.”

“What?” Diego cries, almost jolting like he’s been shocked unexpectedly, “This isn’t it?”

Vanya chuckles darkly, “Not in the _ least._”

“Jesus Christ,” Klaus mutters, looking up at his niece. Some plaster dust falls on his face and he starts spluttering to get it out of his mouth.

(Ben laughs at him. Klaus wants to flip him off, but he doesn’t)

Luther starts to regain a bit of his trepidation that was lost in the shock of Ella’s demonstration. What more could she possibly be capable of? He glances up at the child, who is also making sputtering spitting noises to rid her mouth of particles.

“Besides, bathtime was the lesser of two evils,” Vanya says to Allison, who refocuses onto her sister. Vanya holds up two fingers, “Two words: _ Potty Training._”

Luther feels his face scrunch up in disgust, and he can hear Klaus making gagging noises. He looks to Diego, whose expression has frozen into mild horror, but he can see the mental images rushing behind his eyes. Allison stares blankly at Vanya for a long moment.

(“Oh, _ gross._” Ben complains while scrunching his nose, very much agreeing with his brothers.)

Allison starts _ giggling. _ He feels like he’s been punched in the chest. Luther hasn’t heard that sound in years, and the thing to bring it back is the thought of Zero-Gravity Potty Training? Really?

Vanya slowly joins in, which is a strange sound that Luther’s not sure he’s heard before. It’s a haunting, echoing sound, like the remnants of a tuning fork being struck. The girls end up laughing fully and _ hard. _ Luther can see tears of mirth gather in Allison’s eyes as she leans forward like Vanya to try and control herself.

Luther meets Diego’s eyes, and instead of aggression, they share the same thought: _ What the absolute fuck is happening? _

“Oh, _ shit,” _ Allison wheezes, trying valiantly to gather herself, “That is definitely worse.”

Vanya nods furiously from where she’s doubled over, her laughter petering off into small uncontrollable chuckles. She straightens back up, her cheeks flushed and tiny flyaway hairs escaping her ponytail. She’s smiling, which somehow makes her look a lot more like her daughter. Both her and Allison start to take deep breaths to wrangle their amusement.

“You guys are _ gross._" Diego whines at them, which has Allison sniggering and meeting Vanya’s eyes, who snickers, and suddenly the two women are set off again into peals of laughter. Diego rolls his eyes far back into his head, Klaus looks to be about two seconds from joining his sisters, and Luther is still just confused.

“I got it!” Ella proclaims victoriously as she lowers herself closer to the ground, holding up her prize, and then tilts her head at her hysterical mother and aunt.

“What’s so funny?”

Vanya tries to look at her daughter and stay in control, but fails, and snorts as she says, “N-Nothing.”

“What is it?” Ella probes again, unconvinced, looking frustrated now. She crosses her tiny arms.

“It’s- It’s nothing, really, nothing.” Allison insists, her voice sounding strained as she wipes away a tear, and she breathes, “Oh, _ God…_”

“Whatever,” Ella dismisses, her arms falling, sounding slightly fed up, “I got more to show you, but I’ll try n’ be quicker.”

“O-Okay,” Vanya chokes out and clears her throat, “Are you sure you’re not overloaded?”

“_Yes,_” Ella snips, a fierce look in her eyes, “I’m sorry about the ceiling, but I’m fine.”

“It’s okay,” Allison reassures kindly, “It’s not even noticeable, no one will see it.”

Luther glances up at the house’s new wound. He would see it. He knows it’s there now. But he doesn’t think that would be helpful to say, so he keeps it to himself.

Ella nods gratefully at Allison with a relieved smile and then starts to visibly focus. Her sparks come back, but before she can manifest her new display of power, Klaus cuts in with a noise and a raised finger. Ella looks at him curiously.

“I’m sorry, I’ve gotta say something, It’s my duty as an uncle,” He interjects, sitting forward, and then aims an incredulous look at the girl, “What kind of superhero name is The Spark?”

_ WHO CARES? _Luther wants to shout, but Ella replies with crossed arms once more before he can explode.

“It’s mine! Why, do you have a better one? A cooler one?” The girl challenges defensively, raising her chin at her flamboyant Uncle. Luther can see Diego make an approving face in the corner of his eye. He resists rolling his eyes. Klaus simply raises an eyebrow and leans back with his hands spread.

“I’m The Seance.” He practically purrs, confidence rolling off of him in waves.

(“You’re showing off to a 7-year-old.” Ben deadpans.)

Klaus makes a short hissing noise over his shoulder. Ella sags, not even acknowledging the weird sound like the rest of the confused adults.

“Crap, that does sound cool.” Ella concedes reluctantly, looking down in thought, and Klaus makes an agreeing noise.

“Exactly!” Klaus exclaims, “Which is why you should trust me when I say your pseudonym should be The Green Fairy.” 

(“What, like _ absinthe?_” Ben exclaims, and Klaus nods as he laughs, so Ben just sighs exasperatedly, shaking his head at his brother, “_Klaus…_”)

“No! That’s not- _ No._” Vanya negates sternly before Ella can even consider it, shoving her laughing brother lightly, “First of all, Language-”

“Crap isn’t a bad word.” Ella interrupts, griping, and Vanya’s eyes flash warningly as she sits up straighter.

“It is for you.” She corrects, and then continues over her daughter’s protesting grumbles, “The Spark is a fine name, but you’re not going to be a superhero, Ellie.”

“Well, yeah, not _ now,_” Ella drawls out like it’s obvious, “I gotta do school and stuff. Superheroes can’t be stupid.”

Diego snorts and glances at Luther, “I’ve got evidence that they can.”

Luther would really take large amounts of joy in beating his brother into the ground, the asshole. He can feel his lips pinching tight.

“Alright.” Vanya snaps before Allison can, giving them both the same warning look, which isn’t fair, he didn’t even _ do anything, _ “Ellie, just show them the rest.”

“‘Kay,” Ella chirps, once again taking control of the lip balm with less hassle than before, “I can make things move by shifting their weight with the earth’s gravity, but I can make them listen to _ my _ gravity too.”

Ella slowly, and carefully, lowers her arms to her sides. She closes her eyes for a brief moment, and when she opens them her sparks _ flip _ before Luther’s own eyes. Instead of gliding down her hands, they start to move upward. They build up into a bracelet of light at her wrists, but the band is only there for a small second before it starts to sink into her skin, the light shining from beneath her flesh. 

It does not stay there, and soon lines of light begin to travel up her arms. It reminds Luther of when he would play with a flashlight as a child, when he would put the bulb under his hand and marvel at the way he could see the light through his palm. The sparks under her skin disappear beneath the short sleeves of her shirt at her shoulders, and they don’t appear anywhere else on her body.

The odd feeling of falling is back, but weaker than before, merely tickling his stomach instead of forcing it to move. The air itself starts to hum quietly again.

The stick of lip balm glides toward the floating girl before stopping short in front of her and drifting to the side, only to turn as it wanders too far away. It does the same as it comes up behind her, completing a full orbit around her. It continues going around her lazily, and she watches it go with a small giggle and a happy grin. 

“See?” She titters cheerfully, “I’m like the sun, and this is my planet.”

“You’re a funky little star, you are!” Klaus claps his hands together excitedly, and Ella begins to giggle <strike>adorably</strike> happily at the strange praise, “You’re literally like a tiny, little star!”

“Yeah!” Ella agrees, bouncing in the air with an infectious, bright smile that has already ensnared both Allison and Vanya, “And I can make it come closer, and faster, and higher!”

And she does. She pulls it closer to herself until it skates by her skin, she raises it up towards her head and then back down, and she increases the speed so much that it looks like a blur. She turns herself into a human tether-ball with no visible effort on her part, smiling proudly the entire time. Luther resists the urge to gulp. This child is wildly powerful.

“If I let it go when it goes this fast, it would be like a super-slingshot, but I won’t do that, ‘cause I don’t wanna break anything.” She tells them while the object flies around her like a full-speed aircraft.

“Good.” both Allison and Vanya affirm, and then they share a small, surprised smile. Nothing like the glares he shares with Diego.

Ella slows the stick to a sudden stop in front of her with a grimace, the first visible indication that her powers tax her. Vanya fidgets at the sight. The tube gently makes its way back to the table, landing on its side instead of the intended upright position. Ella winces and makes a displeased noise, finally letting her feet touch the ground to walk over and right it. She no longer looks as stuffed with energy, in fact, her body looks to be too heavy for her legs. She allows herself a heavy sigh, but then changes. She pulls herself up with intent and she looks fine again, like the tiredness did not touch her at all. She stands in front of the coffee table, staring at the lip balm, biting her lip with creases on her forehead. 

“What is it, Ellie?” Allison questions, concerned. Ella pops her head up at the sound and looks at her aunt with conflicted eyes. 

“There’s… one last thing I can do.” She admits hesitantly. Vanya sits up even further, at attention.

“Ella, no, you don’t have to do that.” She objects, easily tripling Luther’s curiosity.

“What is it?” He, Diego and Allison all ask in varying ways. Luther can’t be bothered to glare at Diego, he’s so enthralled in the secretive information. 

Vanya glances at them all, visibly reluctant.

“She can decrease gravity, but she can also _ increase _it.” She tells them haltingly, “She- I- She doesn’t do it much. It’s taxing on her, and there have been.... accidents before.”

“Accidents?” Luther asks for clarification, his stomach churning at the word. The things this child could do with that ability, the damage she could cause… It’s hard to imagine.

“I hurt Mr. Puddles,” Ella mumbles in a brittle voice, staring down at her one shoe to avoid their gazes. Her tangible regret makes Luther feel queasy. Their eyes all shift to Vanya for an explanation.

“The neighbor's cat,” Vanya admits solemnly, then sees their widening eyes and hurries to add, “He’s fine, he still follows her around. She just... Squished him. It scared her more than it scared the cat.”

Allison nods uneasily, but Luther’s mind escapes away from him. At least she didn’t mean to hurt the animal, right? But the thoughts of what she did and what that could mean run rampant in his skull.

“But I want to show them, Mommy,” Ella bursts out, looking pleadingly at her mother, “We're a family now, an’ there shouldn’t be big secrets in a family, right?”

“You’re right, kid.” Diego jumps in before Vanya can, and meets her dirty look with pride. Ella holds her arm out to him as if to say, _ ‘see?’ _ Vanya sighs resignedly.

“Be _ careful._” She warns desperately in lieu of actually giving permission. 

Ella nods with uncharacteristic seriousness, then steps closer to her target with a look of utmost concentration, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. Her fists clench at her sides. And then-

_ Five. _

No, not Five, it just looks like his power. Her hands are covered in mint green energy as if she had dipped them in it, all the way to her forearms, where it is fading. It’s not Five, it’s not his brother, but all he can see is Five, Five,_ Five_-

Her face is scrunched up completely, her brow pressing down into her eyes. She’s clenching her energy soaked fists so hard that it looks to be painful, and the same tension is spreading through her. Her tiny arms shake from how hard she is flexing the muscles, her lips are pinched so much that they are white, and the lip balm on the table looks to be slowly moving down, down, down, melting like it is balancing an entire ton of weight, Ella begins to make a quiet grunting noise-

_ SNAP. _

Luther, along with the rest of his siblings, jumps at the sound.

The lip balm is condensed into a flat object within a few seconds.

Ella audibly lets go of her breath, the air _ wooshing _ out of her lungs. New oxygen is loudly sucked in as she stumbles back a bit. She quickly regains her footing and looks at the table with dazed eyes that light up when she sees the result. She walks up to the table confidently, another proud smile growing on her face. She picks up the flattened lip balm and considers it, flipping it in in front of her eyes.

“See?” She hands it to him so he can inspect it, “I did it!”

He takes it in his hands, his oversized hands that make hers look so _ small _ in comparison, (because she could not wrap her entire hand around two of his fingers if she tried and he _ hates _ that,) and looks it over. It doesn’t look like it’s been smashed, but more like the third dimension has been removed. From the top, he can still see the cream-colored cap intact, like he’s looking at the tube from above. As he turns it to the side, he can see the tiny layers forming the label and the bottom. It’s about the height of four coins stacked on top of each other, maybe a bit shorter. Luther glances up at the girl, the extremely powerful girl, and tosses the object towards Diego as an afterthought. He probably caught it anyway. Smug bastard.

“That’s amazing, Ellie.” He tells her, because it is. And it’s terrifying.

The girl brightens even though she’s breathing heavily, her teeth showing in a big smile. A white smile which is ruined as a line of red comes flowing from her nose, staining her teeth. Luther’s face drops from his tentative, kind grin and floods with alarm.

She closes her mouth as it enters, making a disgusted face against the taste and turning away from them all to cup her nose.

“Ella, what’s wrong?” Vanya asks worriedly.

“Nothing!” Ella denies, muffled by her hand.

“Her nose is bleeding.” Luther tattles, only for Ella to whip around and stare at him with a covered face full of childish betrayal. He winces apologetically at her and gets a glare in return. He somehow feels guilty about it, like he did after reporting any wrongdoing to Dad as a child. That’s the same face he would get from his siblings.

“Oh, Ella, I said you shouldn’t,” Vanya fusses, getting up to kneel in front of her daughter, “Let me see.”

“No.” Ella presses her hands harder against her face.

“_Ella. _ Let me see.” 

Ella shakes her head furiously, glaring at her mother now like a caged animal, “It’s fine, it’s not even that bad.”

“If it’s not bad, why won’t you let me see?” Vanya counters. Ella’s eyes track to the side. She probably hadn’t thought of that.

“Because it’s my business?” She tries, her voice still muffled, and Vanya gives her a deadpan look. Luther can hear both his brothers huff out a laugh.

“Well, have fun with your business, but you’re going to have to breathe at some point.” Vanya challenges. Ella seems to think about this, and then narrows her eyes, seeing the logic. She reluctantly pulls her hands away from her face, slowly leaning over them to catch the blood. And there’s quite a lot of it. Allison makes a sympathetic noise while Klaus winces.

Both her nostrils are flowing freely into her hands, and her desperate cover-up managed to spread the liquid all over her face around her nose. Vanya _ tsks _ and quickly grabs a tissue from a nearby fancy tissue holder, trying to mop up the mess (with the assistance of her own saliva, ew,) while her daughter sputters and generally makes it harder.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” She nags while cleaning the unhappy child’s face.

Ella leans away with squinty eyes, spluttering, “_Mommy, _stop it, it’s embarrassing-”

“Well, I wouldn’t have to do this if you had _ stopped _when I told you to.” Vanya harps, turning her attention to her daughter’s small hands, much to Ella’s visible relief. The girl rolls her eyes, trying to clean herself off without any help even through her mother’s movements. Vanya stands up after Ella’s hands are clean enough, seemingly to give her daughter space.

“You _ always _ want me to stop, even when I’m not doing nothing!” Ella replies snappishly, snatching the offered clean tissue away from Vanya and holding it to her nose.

“Not doing anything.” Vanya corrects, stepping back from the grumpy child and crossing her arms.

“What_ever,_” Ella says nasally, further irritated by her mother’s constant insistence on grammar, glaring over the tissue held to her face.

“Speaking of things you shouldn’t have done, where did your shoe go?” Vanya questions, a hand going to her hip. Ella glances down at her feet as if just noticing the missing footwear, but it’s obvious that she’s well aware of its absence. Her face looks a tidbit too casual.

“These shoes are a crime against fashion, Mommy. It _ had _ to go.” The child insists through a faceful of tissue. Klaus snorts and starts snickering before Vanya can reply, which brings the mother’s gaze to him. He shrugs at her, unaffected.

“I mean, she’s _ right,_” Klaus tells her, completely ignoring the warning look on her face. Luther can see Diego roll his eyes lightly in his peripheral. Ella waves a hand in his direction, using the other one to hold the tissue.

“_See? _ Uncle Klaus agrees with me!” She shouts, muffled and vindicated. Vanya turns from a smiling Klaus to look at her, her arms crossing again.

“Well, they’re not _ his shoes._” She counters, shooting Klaus a look which he waves cheerily at, “I paid for them, which means I expect to _ have _ them. _ Both _ of them, even if you think they’re ugly.”

“_Mommy-_” Ella starts to whine at her, slumping over.

“Alright,” Luther stands and holds his hands out placatingly to the two arguing girls, bringing their eerily identical ticked off looks to himself, “Look, this is- Well, it’s a lot to take in, but we still have a funeral to plan, so let’s just relax, okay?”

Vanya sighs and drops her arms, looking down to the ground and nodding, “Okay, sounds good.”

She takes Ella’s hand, ignoring her petulant struggles, and leads her over to the spot that she vacated. Unfortunately, Ella’s eyes catch on to the almost drained glass in Klaus’ hand on the short journey to the cushion. She stops her halfhearted fighting in favor of staring at it with obvious longing. She looks up to Vanya, all traces of stubbornness gone and replaced with forced innocence.

“Can I have some apple juice? Like Uncle Klaus?” she asks nicely as Vanya pulls her up onto the couch next to her. Her nosebleed seems to have stopped, because she lowers the tissue and tosses it on the coffee table. Vanya takes the dirty tissue and puts it in her purse.

Klaus opens his mouth to answer Ella’s question, looking amused, but Vanya replies before he can say anything. Just in case. Luther can agree that that’s a good call.

“That’s not apple juice, honey. It’s for grown-ups, like Mommy’s special grape juice.” She tells her, and Diego snorts at the words ‘Mommy’s special grape juice.’ Vanya picks something up from the ground beside her and hands it to Ella, whose stormy face clears at the sight of actual apple juice being given to her.

“Thanks, Mommy!” Ella says genuinely as she takes the plastic bottle, only for her eyes to trail to Klaus’ drink and Diego and Allison’s identical glasses, “But can I have it in a fancy cup?”

“No-” Vanya starts, only for Klaus to quickly clamber to his feet.

“I got this!” He states loudly, yanking the bottle of apple juice from his niece, who is smiling up at him. 

“Thank you, Uncle Klaus!” Ella chirps at him, giggling at the way he takes it overdramatically with a bow for her entertainment.

“You’re very welcome, liebling nichte,” Klaus replies affectionately, pinching her cheek a little to elicit more titters before swanning off in the other direction.

Vanya tries to protest, her hands fidgeting nervously, but Klaus is well on his way to the bar. Instead, she turns on the couch to follow him with her eyes.

“Just- She’s only seven, Klaus, so just apple juice,” Vanya tells him in an almost pleading sort of tone. Her words make him pause on his journey and turn to her.

“I know, Van-Van. I might be a bit off my nut, but I’m not that far gone yet.” He replies, looking almost hurt by her words. Vanya seems guilty, but also marginally more relaxed and less nervous. She smiles at him in what could be a joking way, but it’s hard to tell with her.

“I don’t presume to know how your mind works, Klaus.” She says, almost sounding playful. To Luther’s surprise, Klaus laughs loudly in response, a noise which is somehow forced and real at the same time.

“That’s very true, sister dear. Smart of you.” He nods, continuing on his way while Vanya turns back to the rest of them. Her smile looks more pleased now, a new warmth to it.

There’s a painfully awkward silence filled with clinking from the bar. All of them look at each other, even Ella in her own innocent way as she wipes at her face, wondering how to start the conversation. Allison takes an innocuous gulp of her drink, looking away from the group. Luther waits.

The fire crackles. He doesn’t feel warm.

Then he remembers that there’s no Dad to wait for. <strike>(He’s gone.) </strike>

Just him. 

So he clears his throat.

“Let’s get this started, I guess,” He begins, wanting more than anything to sit back down and curl in on himself, but that’s not befitting of a leader, so he plows on, “So, uh, I figured we could have a sort of memorial service in the courtyard at sundown. Say a few words, just at Dad's favorite spot.”

“Dad had a favorite spot?” Allison asks, her eyebrows raised. He doesn’t understand why she’s surprised, surely they all know about the oak tree?

“You know, under the oak tree.” Luther tries to jog her memory, but there’s no recognition, “We used to sit out there all the time.”

Blank looks from all his siblings. Ella is looking around too, trying to help find a shred of remembrance.

“None of you ever did that?” Luther asks them all, receiving shaken heads and traded looks in return. Huh.

“Will there be refreshments? Tea? Scones? Cucumber sandwiches are always a winner.” Klaus queries pompously as he saunters back to the couch, both his and Ella’s drinks in his hands, with an old trophy too for some odd reason. Luther isn’t going to ask.

(“Are you really going to use that as an ashtray?” Ben asks, arms crossed. Klaus nods subtly in his direction. Ben rolls his eyes.)

“What? No.” Luther protests against his brother’s ridiculous questions. Said brother shrugs as if saying, _ well, your loss. _

Klaus sets a glass of apple juice in front of Ella, the drink fully decked out with a cherry and a tiny pink umbrella toothpick. Luther isn’t sure where Klaus found those. Ella lets out a little _ oooh! _ Sound of appreciation, looking up at Klaus with a sweet, grateful smile. He pats her lightly on the head with a soft chuckle, setting his own drink and trophy on the end table near his seat. 

“Both hands,” Vanya mutters to her daughter from the corner of her mouth, leaning to the side to make sure that there are no spills. Ella nods and carefully uses both hands to pick up her drink and take a sip.

There’s a lit cigarette hanging from Klaus’ lips as he speaks, and Luther feels a flare of annoyance at the blatant disregard of Dad’s rules. 

“And put that out. Dad didn't allow smoking in here.” Luther orders, and Klaus spreads his arms with wide eyes and an indignant scoff.

“What? You didn’t say anything when Vanya was doing it!” Klaus protests childishly, holding an arm out to his sister.

Vanya clears her throat loudly, shifting uncomfortably, with a pointed look at Klaus and then another pointed glance at Ella. The girl doesn’t seem to notice what was said, happily enjoying her drink and making faces at the cherry between her fingers. Klaus doesn’t look sorry at all.

“Is that my skirt?” Allison interjects toward Klaus, helpfully changing the subject. Vanya looks at Klaus’ legs and snorts quietly to herself.

“What?” Klaus looks down at his legs as if he just now noticed what he’s wearing, his face just a tad too casual, “Oh, yeah, this. I found it in your room. It's a little dated, I know, but it's very breathey on-” he gestures around his crotch airily, “-the bits.”

Luther feels his face scrunch up in disgust. Ella giggles behind her hand, her eyes now on her uncle.

Vanya’s eyes are wide, “Wait, are you not wea-”

“Why’re you wearing girl clothes?” Ella asks before her mother can finish her incredulous statement. Klaus makes a tutting noise, mocking offense by putting a hand on his heart.

“If these are girl clothes, my dear Ella, then why do they look so good on _ me?_” He twitters in return, giving a little twirl that flares the skirt around him, making Luther fear that he will be flashed with something he really doesn’t want to see. 

(“You’re ridiculous.” Ben says blankly from behind the couch, his arms still crossed. Klaus winks at him. Ben, once again, rolls his eyes. It’s a common thing in their relationship.)

Ella’s giggles that the movement caused are on the cusp of full-blown laughter. Her drink sloshes dangerously in her hand, making Vanya hold her hands up nervously as if to catch it, but in a display of rare forward-thinking, Klaus didn’t fill it all the way to the top.

“Should I call’ya Auntie Klaus then?” The girl jokes through her giggling, her eyes twinkling with child-like humor. Klaus hums consideringly, exaggeratedly tapping a finger to his chin in thought.

“Ooooh, ‘Auntie,’ I like the sound of that.” He ponders out loud before flapping a hand in the girl’s direction, “I’ll get back to you on that.”

(“I prefer Trash Man, myself.” Ben says, smirking. Klaus’ face twitches but he doesn’t otherwise react.)

“Listen up.” Luther snaps, getting tired of the antics. Little Ella sits up to attention while Klaus rolls his eyes and flops onto the couch, “There’s still some important things that we need to discuss, all right?”

“Like what?” Diego asks.

“Like the way he died,” Luther answers firmly, only to see Diego’s head turn to the side in exasperation.

“And here we go.” He sighs dismissively, but Luther doesn’t care, this is important.

“I-I don't understand. I thought they said it was a heart attack.” Vanya pipes up, tilting her head a little. Ella’s back to focusing on her cherry with confusion.

“Yeah, according to the coroner,” Luther says. The cherry is stolen by Klaus’ long fingers and plopped into his mouth. Ella looks at him with her head sideways in a goofy, curious way.

“Well, wouldn't they know?” Vanya reasons logically, looking puzzled. Klaus’ tongue visibly moves something around his mouth, and then sticks out to reveal a tied cherry stem. Ella smiles widely, delighted, and starts quietly clapping at his display.

“Theoretically,” Luther answers his sister. Klaus gives a little showman’s bow to his niece, and she giggles at him discreetly, her tiny shoulders shaking.

(“Why is she laughing at you? You’re not funny.” Ben complains with a contradictory soft smile, reaching out a hand as if to touch Ella’s shoulder, “Ella, don’t laugh at that idiot, you’re better than that-”

Ella jerks back when Ben’s hand comes close, looking up at him with wide eyes, staring directly at his face, but not quite into his eyes. Ben freezes. 

Ella’s eyes dart between the area of his face and the stilled hand, a hint of fear in her gaze. Slowly, Ben retracts his hand and watches as she relaxes the further away he gets. After a moment, she seems to shake herself and turns around again, ignoring him completely. 

Ben looks at Klaus, shocked, but his brother simply shrugs with slightly widened eyes. Not exactly helpful. Ben huffs at him.)

“Theoretically?” Allison repeats Luther skeptically, leaning forward a little with slightly furrowed eyebrows. Both Ella and Klaus look away from each other and drink out of their respective glasses, looking weirdly spooked in different ways.

“I'm just saying, at the very least, something happened. The last time that I talked to Dad, he sounded strange.” Luther insists, trying not to sound like he’s begging his siblings to see what he does. He doesn’t get why they aren’t more suspicious. He’s beginning to suspect that he doesn’t know his siblings that well at all.

“Oh, _ quelle surprise!_” Klaus bursts out, tipping his head back and gurgling his drink. Ella watches him with another wide smile and starts to giggle hesitantly once more. Klaus smiles softly at the sound without taking his eyes off Luther, who resists the urge to scoff.

“Strange how?” Allison wonders, leaning over her knees. She sounds doubtful. Luther kind of wants to throw something. Can’t they see how important this is? Someone _ murdered _ their father.

“He sounded on edge. Told me I should be careful who to trust.” Luther tells her defensively. Diego sighs and stands to his feet.

“Luther, he was a paranoid, bitter old man who was starting to lose what was left of his marbles.” He says dismissively, walking over to stand at Luther’s side.

“No. He must have known something was going to happen.” Luther denies quickly with a hard look at his brother. That can’t have been it, it had to be more than that. Dad is- _ was _ more than that. He swallows hard.

Luther looks over at Klaus, not expecting much from this request, “Look, I know you don't like to do it, but I need you to talk to Dad.”

Allison scoffs derisively, taking a sip from her glass. Klaus points at himself like _ who, me? _

“I can't just call Dad in the afterlife and be like, "Dad, could you just stop playing tennis with Hitler for a moment and take a quick call?"” Klaus replies mockingly, leaning forward as he speaks. Ella seems to have tuned back in, her eyes following the conversation like said tennis match.

“Since when? That's your thing.” Luther demands, despite knowing _ exactly _ why Klaus can’t do anything.

“His thing? Like his power?” Ella inquires curiously. Vanya nods to her shortly, but doesn’t elaborate, which causes Ella to huff frustratedly from her nose. She crosses her arms and flops back into the couch.

“I'm-I’m not in the- the right frame of mind!” Klaus scrambles for an excuse, floundering.

“You're high?” Allison fills in knowingly, almost shouting it at him accusingly.

Klaus laughs and agrees easily, waving a hand in her direction with a smile, “Yeah! Yeah! I mean, how are you not, listening to this nonsense?”

“But you’re not high, you’re on the ground!” Ella says to him innocently, confused. Klaus’ face twists and becomes somewhat constipated, like he can’t find it within himself to explain. For once, Luther can’t blame him.

Vanya taps her daughter on the shoulder, looking pained, and when Ella turns, she quietly says, “He took some bad medicine, so he can’t use his powers.”

“Oh.” Ella nods understandingly, and then perks up to take the opportunity, “What _ is _ his power, though?”

“Well, sober up, this is important,” Luther barks at his brother before she can get an answer, even though no one looked to be volunteering to tell her. The little girl huffs again and carefully takes another drink.

Klaus groans quietly, used to being a disappointment. As he always is. Idiot. He’s useless for now then. But when _ isn’t _ he?

“Then there's the issue of the missing monocle.” Luther presses on. This time, Diego does groan.

“Who gives a shit about a stupid monocle?” He grumbles, looking to the side with his eyes closed.

Both Allison and Vanya protest the swear word, Allison exclaiming a quiet _ hey! _ while Vanya simply hisses at him. Ella smirks mischievously with sparkling eyes and starts laughing silently, her small shoulders shaking again. Diego somehow winces and rolls his eyes at the same time.

“Sorry,” he mutters, not sounding particularly shameful at all. He winks at Ella, getting both a little giggle in return and a strengthened dirty look from Vanya, which he ignores.

“Exactly. It's worthless.” Luther agrees with Diego, which sends a shockwave of traded looks through the group. He hopes they know how serious he is about this now, to the point of agreeing with his dickhead brother. 

He kind of doesn’t want to say it.

But he has to. He owes his dad that much. He owes his dad _ everything. _

He takes a breath, bracing himself, and then, “So whoever took it, I think it was personal. Someone close to him. Someone with a grudge.”

There.

He said it. 

It’s out there.

Luther tries really hard not to look at Vanya, but it’s for naught. He ends up giving her a side look, along with one for Diego. He can see her slowly straighten as his implication hits her, her expression hardening once more. He tries not to wince. He actually manages not to this time.

(“Is he…” Ben trails as his eyes widen, his arms dropping to his sides along with his jaw.)

“Where are you going with this?” Klaus asks cautiously, like he knows exactly what’s being said but doesn’t want to be right.

“Oh, isn't it obvious, Klaus?” Diego boasts as he steps closer into Luther’s space, with that knowing tone of voice that usually makes his blood boil, “He thinks one of us killed Dad.”

“What?” Ella yells out, snapping her gaze to everyone in turn, looking confused and alarmed.

Luther grunts softly. He looks around, not meeting anyone’s eyes. He can’t bring himself to do it, especially not Ella’s innocent stare that is slowly morphing into hurt.

“You do?” Klaus gasps out in shock.

(“Oh, _ wow,_” Ben scoffs with a shocked laugh in his tone, looking away.)

“How could you think that?” Vanya questions sharply, leaning forward predatorily with a glint of ice in her eye, “I saw that look. You think now that I have motive, that means I killed him?”

“No- I mean-” Yes. Kinda. He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know his sister anymore, if he ever did in the first place.

“If that was the case, why would I wait 7 years before doing it?” Vanya cuts him off caustically, her glare slicing, “Did you factor _ that _ into your genius reasoning?”

“Mommy..?” Ella almost whimpers as she slowly reaches for Vanya’s hand, her big eyes almost shining at him with confused fear. Vanya reaches back and takes her child’s hand without even looking, her glare never straying from Luther. Ella looks up at her mother’s expression and seems to take it as confirmation, her eyes going back to him with an even stronger look of betrayal, hurt, and childish horror. The guilt makes him want to crawl into his own skin and hide from the world.

How is it that this child that he met not even 30 minutes ago is able to make him feel more guilty than he thought possible?

“Great job, Luther. Way to lead.” Diego sneers mockingly into his face before walking past him out of the room.

“That's not what I'm saying-” Luther tries, but it does nothing.

“You're crazy, man. You're crazy,” Klaus says, pointing at him emphatically as he stands up, “Crazy.”

He begins to leave, with Vanya following, dragging Ella out by her hand.

“I've not finished-” Luther tries to insist, but they keep walking.

“Sorry, I'm just gonna go murder Mom. Be right back.” Klaus tosses flippantly over his shoulder with strong sarcasm, leading the way out. Vanya goes too, pulling a stumbling Ella behind her, who stares up at Luther with her huge hurt eyes piercing into his soul until she’s forced away.

“That's not what I was saying- I didn't-” Luther sighs, knowing it’s a lost cause. Even so, he wasn’t expecting Allison to abandon him too.

“Allison- Jeez.” But she’s going, an angry sway of her hips as she leaves. He sighs again.

“That went well.” He mutters to himself.

It didn’t.

It really didn’t.

* * *

Allison makes her way to her childhood bedroom, feeling betrayed and hurt but also resigned in the most expected way possible. On one hand, how _ dare _ he say that, but on the other hand, what else would he say? It’s Luther. That’s what he does. And she’s 80 percent sure that he was not including her in his accusation. But still, even _ Vanya? _ He could’ve said it better. 

But then again, Luther has never been one for subtlety. Or, y’know, _ tact. _

“Aunt Allison!” 

Allison turns in her doorway to see a small girl running up to her. Her spirits lift the tiniest bit, and she smiles lightly. There’s at least one positive outcome to this family gathering, if not unexpected. But still, it’s a welcome surprise.

“Hey, Ellie.” She greets her once she makes it down the hallway, only slightly out of breath. The girl smiles up at her.

“Hey!” Ellie replies, and then promptly slithers past Allison into her room. Making a baffled face to herself, Allison turns around to watch as the girl goes further into the room and picks up a shoe that she’s sure wasn’t there the last time she entered.

“Ah, so _ that’s _where your shoe got to.” She observes knowingly with an amused grin to the little girl, who smiles abashedly and shifts a little.

“Yeah, sorry. I played in here a little earlier. B-but I put everything back! Don’t worry!” Ellie admits, putting her hands in front of her placatingly. Allison shakes her head and chuckles.

“It’s okay. Did your Mom tell you to come and get it?” 

“Yeah,” Ella answers with a scrunched up face, jumping up onto Allison’s bed to shove her shoe back on. She looks around with a small smile, “I like this room.”

“Yeah?” Allison asks as she takes a seat next to her niece. Now that she looks around, she can see some things have shifted, but it’s mostly clean.

“Yeah.” Ellie affirms with a nod, then suddenly turns to Allison, “What’s your favoritest two colors?”

Allison blinks at the abrupt change, but answers anyway, “Light blue and... fuschia.”

“Fuschia?” Ellie questions with a head tilt.

“It’s a kind of deep pink,” Allison replies, looking down at Ellie. The girl seems to think for a moment, then nods to herself.

“Okay. Does Claire like sparkles?” Ellie inquires again, looking up at her aunt. Allison seems to have gotten herself into an interrogation. Luckily, she’s experienced in little girl questions.

She smiles fondly and chuckles a little bit, “Claire _ loves _ sparkles.”

Ella straightens and smiles happily, “Good!”

“Why do you ask?” Allison wonders, trying to figure out the correlation between these questions. She can’t seem to match Ellie’s mental prowess and falls short.

“I’m gonna make you a bracelet! Claire too, with the same colors but with sparkles!” Ellie chirps enthusiastically, giving Allison a flash of her wrist, where she can see a bright green bracelet that matches her sparks, “I make them all the time for Mommy and Cara, so I’m gonna make everyone a bracelet too. I already made a keychain for Uncle Diego!”

Allison feels the warmth from a sun in her chest along with trapped laughter at the mental image of Diego wearing a bracelet made by his little niece. _Big Angry Diego feels feelings._

She smiles encouragingly at the little girl, “That’s great, sweetie! I would love one, and I’m sure Claire will love it too.”

“Good!” Ella says excitedly, “Do you promise to give it to Claire when you go back?”

“I promise,” Allison reassures, holding up a pinky, which Ellie wraps around her own with a bright smile. Allison tries not to think about the fact that she doesn’t know when she’ll see her daughter again.

“Thanks, Aunt Allison!” Ellie chirps at her, wrapping Allison in a quick hug that has her chuckling and smiling again as she hugs her back, “I’m gonna go start on it!”

“Okay, Ellie, I’ll see you later.” Allison offers, tucking a strand of hair behind Ellie’s tiny ear before the girl slides off the bed. Little legs go flying the moment her feet hit the ground.

“Bye-bye!” Her niece shouts over her shoulder, running down the hallway at a speed that would’ve gotten Allison scolded as a child. She watches her niece zoom away fondly. Dad can’t do shit about it now. Her lips stretch a little more at the thought.

And then she’s alone, still smiling and wanting to chuckle.

It takes a few moments to remember what was bothering her before because Ella’s brightness lingers long after she’s gone. Allison prefers that warm glow to the feeling that her problems bring her. 

She hears the sound of Luther making his way toward the hallway, probably on the way to his room. Her problems come back to her in a rush, so she turns back into her room. She sighs sadly as the drape of hopelessness washes back over her.

She misses Claire now more than ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay!!! How did you like it? I was very nervous about this one, because I took a giant break in between and it's my first deep delve into canon! How did I do? Let me know with a comment! Tell me how you liked it, what you hated, your favorite part, ANYTHING! I always love to hear from you! Yes, you!
> 
> I hope I'm able to update this story more often than I am in the future, but I doubt it. I hope you'll stick with me! Again, if you ever want to check in on how I'm doing with the next chapter, follow my tumblr, ellagracehargreeves. I love the support I get there, I might be hooked on it. Y'all are awesome!
> 
> Again, PLEASE let me know how you liked it! I welcome anything in my comments, even suggestions! 
> 
> NEXT TIME: Ellie makes bracelets and has an enlightening conversation with her Uncle Trash Man. Also, LET THERE BE MUSIC! (and possibly Five BUT MOSTLY MUSIC!)


	9. Trash Man and Mister Ben

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ella has a nice discussion with her uncle(s).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am... so sorry. It's been awhile. 
> 
> It's taken me 7 or 8 months to write this and post it. and I really don't like it. It feels like something's missing to me, and I don't know what. Also it was written throughout the year, so it may not flow as much. I don't know, I just hope y'all don't hate me for leaving you for so long. (Comments telling me what you think of this chapter may help!!) At first I was procrastinating, then the world fell apart, and then I procrastinated again. But I'm here now! If you're new here, Welcome! This amount of time between updates is hopefully just a fluke!
> 
> Unfortunately there shall be no music or dancing or Five in this chapter, since this one scene always seemed to be missing something and wouldn't let me move forward until it was written fully, and it is 9,000+ words so I felt writing any other scene would make this chapter too long. (I also couldn't bear staring at the same words anymore.)
> 
> I missed y'all, Ella missed y'all, and I hope you missed us too, but we back baby! I promise, this fic will get an ending, no matter how long it takes. Enjoy the chapter my darlings, sorry it took so long! I can't wait to hear from you in the comments!
> 
> Follow my tumblr, ellagracehargreeves, to get updates on my procrastination and this fic!

Most of the Hargreeves siblings take this time to separate into different corners of the house, letting their minds drift listlessly from the revelations and insinuations of the day to the memories held within the halls of their childhood abode. Many of the siblings ponder their worries and dreary thoughts with sad sighs and weary resignation. Except for one. 

He’s… doing a thing.

“Tell everyone who done it, and find eternal peace!” A voice rings out from the empty living room, unheard or ignored by the rest of the household. Most likely the latter.

Klaus Hargreeves does not notice much around him as he complains at his dead– very _ stubbornly _ dead, if he says so himself– Father. Ah– _ Adopted _ Father. The blame isn’t fully on Klaus, though: His situational awareness as of late could be described as… spotty, if one was being nice. _ Very _ nice. _ Supremely _ nice.

Plus, he is also having thoughts similar to his siblings, but unlike them, he’s using every tactic he has to _ avoid _ said thoughts. They pelt at him within his mind, but he, being the talented bastard he is, dodges them spectacularly in a vigorous game of mental dodgeball. It’s preoccupying, to say the least.

So he does not hear the quick pitter-patter of footsteps behind him as they dash to the coffee table and then back out into the entrance hall, quickly kidnapping a plate of grilled cheese and a plain yet decorated purse as they loop around the surface. The small figure traipses through at such a speed that brown hair billows behind it like a windsock rippling in the breeze. Klaus’ resident ghost brother stares after it with wide eyes.

“Eternal peace– it’s probably overrated.” Klaus laughs at the urn, more likely just to himself, and awaits an answer.

Dead silence.

(Heh.)

He groans in frustration. He can’t sense anything happening, so he leans against the back of the sofa and starts to wait it out. He’s not sure what he’s waiting for. He’s never sensed a damn thing before, and this won’t be any different. But, for a reason that is unclear to him, he attempts it anyway.

Klaus, in all his struggles to sense _ anything,_ does not even notice the (very much alive) tiny body slinking back into the room to settle silently on one of the couches behind him, a glittery backpack in tow. The movements and sounds of searching for something within the backpack are not even a slight flicker on his radar, which is admittedly lacking. His _ gaydar, _ however– No, that’s off topic. But, rest assured, it is in tip top shape.

He pays Ben no mind as the normally <strike>fucking annoying</strike> sassy ghost goes dead silent (hA!) and stares, transfixed with a sort of emotional angst at a spot behind him. Klaus dismisses him after a single glance. He may be the only one able to see his brother, but he doesn’t pretend to understand him.

So, still, the weary ghost-whisperer waits. 

And he waits.

…

He tips his head back, blowing a raspberry out through his lips, making a funny floppy sound that he giggles a little at. Then he returns his sight forward.

.......

Still….waiting….

……….

...Jesus, this is boring...

…………...

There’s nothing.

It’s a few minutes after his previous attempt when he slowly ambles up to the urn, leaning on the surface as if chatting it up at a bar. Which, he kind of is. But not in a fun way.

“Come on, Reggie,” He sighs at it, watching it just sit there silently, staring at him, “Any time now.”

Dead silence.

(He suppresses a snort.)

(He’s been seeing ghosts for as long as he can remember, but he will never get tired of that joke.)

So he waits again, backing up from the bar where the urn sits. He studies it for a while.

It’s gaudy, but at the same time it’s _ boring. _ He’s never put much thought into his own funeral, (since he’s sure that he’ll die forgotten in an alley somewhere,) but he’d prefer his own eternal resting place to have a bit more... _ pizazz. _ With some… he doesn’t know, glitter? _ Something, _ at least. Maybe he’ll mix his ashes with a little of whatever drug manages to permanently off him. Or maybe a _ lot _ of it_, _ and then watch as his fellow addicts in attendance slowly get desperate enough to ingest some of _ him. _ God, that would be hilarious. Either way, his funeral will have an emphasis on _ fun, _ much like his personality. He supposes the urn in front of him matches the old man in that way. Pretentious and ugly as hell. 

Klaus stares at the vase as he thinks. He feels like it’s watching him back.

“Please?” He makes his belly-button say with his hands in a simpering voice to distract him from the unsettling feeling, then giggles to himself. He looks to Ben, expecting an eye-roll, but the ghost just stares behind him. Klaus mentally shrugs. His loss.

“Just need to sober up!” Klaus shouts at himself, turning back, doing something that looks like a yoga stretch and slapping his face, rubbing his eyes with a deep sigh, “Clear thoughts.”

He rolls his neck, taking deep breaths and trying to relax. Trying to center himself, perhaps. Whatever. He never bought into that crap anyway.

The air smells of rich asshole.

(And by that he means his father. His father as a person, not specifically his father’s as- oh god, he’s supposed to be focusing on _ anything _ but that thought, dear lord, anything but _ that_.)

He holds up his hands and tries to concentrate, feeling them start to shake with the power of his focus. And _ only _ his focus, no other power to speak of. He’s actually trying for once, isn’t that a rare sight?

Here we go, let’s do this, come on, come on–

Klaus holds his breath and feels his face twist into a constipated expression. He holds it until he thinks his chest will burst from the air pressure, then peeks one eye open from where it had squinted closed.

Nothing. He wasn’t trying to get his hopes up, but he feels them fall anyway as he releases the air in his lungs.

“Come on!” He yells at the ugly thing, clapping his hands impatiently as if to speed it up, “Come on, chop-chop!”

Nada. He huffs, turning around while pacing back, then spinning with a finger pointed at the damn urn. 

Klaus probably should’ve been able to see the little girl sitting there staring at him with wide-eyed fascination, an almost-finished craft hanging limply from her hands as she abandons it in favor of watching him rant. But he doesn’t notice her. He’s too irritated. Or too high. Or too... him. Either way, he doesn’t see her nor the incredulous gesture that Ben makes between him and said little girl. If he had seen her, he probably wouldn’t say the many things he is about to say. 

...But then again, he probably would anyway. Klaus determined long ago that he is physically incapable of censoring himself.

“You always were a stubborn bastard!” He screams at his father, pointing at the goddamn urn that just stares at him. So condescending, even in death. He huffs strongly in frustration, feeling his chest start to heave and puff with anger that he doesn’t really <strike>want to</strike> feel all that much. He just wants to get Luther off his back, is that too much to ask?

Klaus continues his angry rant, saying many things that should never, ever, _ ever _ be said in front of a child, waving off Ben’s frantic attempts to get him to shut up. In his ire, and his… Klausness, he never notices the little girl behind him whose mischievous smile gets wider and wider with every obscenity that leaves his mouth, until eventually she sits up fully with troublemaking sparkles dancing around in her eyes.

His rant leaves him panting, slouching up against the bar for support. He glances at the urn hopefully. 

Not a damn peep.

“I don’t know about you,” He says to it conversationally, tired of this shit, “But I need a drink.”

He reaches around the bar, towards sweet, sweet liquid relief, but as stated before, his situational awareness needs work. Should probably add coordination to the list, too.

His hand knocks into his not-so-dearly departed father, and he watches in slow motion as disaster strikes. The container tips over, the top flies off, and the remains of the old bastard start to spill into the air with horrible grace–

Then it abruptly stops. The base stays at the same impossible angle, the lid floating in the air where it should not be, and the ash wanders through the airspace like water in a space-station. Small green flashes of light surround the entire frozen mess.

Klaus feels himself breathing from his recently paralyzed lungs, and his shaky hand smacks against his chest in an effort to restart his heart. It does, beating wildly with delayed panic as he sighs loudly in relief. His body leans over, trying to keep itself upright from the shock of the near-catastrophe. God, Luther would’ve been _ pissed. _

After a few deep breaths, he turns around to see Ella, his tiny <strike>savior</strike> niece, behind him with her hands held up as if to catch something and sparking with green light. She slowly approaches him, walking around the couch with measured footsteps, as if balancing on a thin bar. Her attention stays on the frozen dead man as he stares at her, surprised and confused. She must feel his eyes on her, because she flicks her gaze to him with a small smile before refocusing on her target. He still doesn’t move, so she nods towards the mess that is slowly starting to wobble.

“Hurry, scoop it up!” She orders him quickly with weirdly misplaced authority, and he blinks.

“Right, yeah, yeah,” He mutters to himself as he scrambles over to the bar again, “Scooping up Dad, right.”

Klaus eyes the floating, sparking mess with a little trepidation, but shakes himself out of it. He puts his hands on the base of the urn, only to jerk back in surprise at the weird buzzy feeling that spreads to his palms. He looks back at his niece to see his brother standing next to her, as if giving her his silent, invisible support. She raises her little eyebrows at Klaus urgently.

“Dude, c’mon, I don’t know how long she can hold it.” Ben tells him, glancing between the girl and Klaus worriedly. Klaus nods, more to reassure himself than anything.

“Okay, okay, doing it now,” He says aloud, bracing himself by shaking out his hands. He forces himself to grab onto the urn with a firm grip, pushing his mind through the odd feeling that should be painful, but isn’t.

Carefully, he guides the weightless urn around in the air, making sure to capture every last particle that floats in front of him. He doesn’t remember ever being this laser-focused in his _ life. _ He can’t help but think of it as doing some sort of twisted brain surgery. Except it’s not, he’s not doing brain surgery, he’s scooping up his father into a _ pot _ like using a dustpan.

Well, he always said his father was a garbage person.

Klaus strangles back his laugh using sheer willpower, not thinking it to be a good idea for this situation. This completely absurd, _ bizarre _ situation.

Eventually, it’s all in the container again, but still weightlessly floating within it. Therefore, he’s ridiculously cautious as he reaches for the cap, but then abandons it all when he slams it back in place. The moment it’s back on, the true weight returns, and he almost drops it again at the sudden change. Thankfully, he hefts it back up in time, almost flinging it onto the surface of the bar. He makes sure it stays upright in its rightful place, backs away from it, and then allows himself to relax. His chest heaves deeply with his breath of alleviation. 

He glances at his niece, who stands in the same spot as before with her hands now lowered, a proud sort of relief on her tiny, foreign-but-familiar face. She catches him looking at her and gives him a small smile, chin raised up and chest puffed out, looking satisfied with herself.

Klaus’ heart finally starts to slow down from the averted crisis, and he swallows down the panic in his throat so he can speak.

“Uh, thanks, lieblingsnichte.” He manages to croak out. Her smile widens to show her teeth, and she stands even more confidently at the praise.

“You’re welcome!” she chirps happily, her eyes sparkling even more, infinitely pleased with his approval in a way he can’t really comprehend. She turns to head back to her spot, but freezes, looking hesitant, yet not scared. Klaus is too buried in his stupor to really take note of the way she looks up and down, as if taking something in, before spinning around and going to the couch the other way, the way that does not contain a Ben.

Klaus doesn’t meet his brother’s curious, thoughtful look, too busy with following the girl in a stunned trance. He stops at the back of the couch and watches as she sits back down at her seat and continues some sort of craft, unbothered by the silence around her. Her fingers wrap and weave the floss-like strings together with mindless efficiency, the end result of light blue and deep pink slanted stripes almost printing out from beneath her hands. She begins to idly hum a tune that Klaus distantly recognizes from some recent-ish Disney film. The sound of the notes in her high, almost off key voice slowly drag him back to reality.

“Uh...H-How much of that did you hear?” He asks nervously into the quiet, hoping against all hope for a negative answer. But, alas, his luck has never been good, and this is no different.

“All of it.” She says cheerily with mischief in her eyes, and Klaus slaps a hand to his face with a sharp _ smack_.

“Vanya’s gonna kill me.” He groans out, a sentence that he never expected to say with any real fear, but this entire day has been fucky-wucky in the weirdest way. Ella chuckles quietly, briefly glancing up at him from her project with a look in her eyes that says that she has learned many new words today and she _ will _ be testing them out later. Klaus resists the urge to gulp.

“I tried to tell you.” Ben says smugly from his side, crossing his arms and leaning back onto the couch with the grace of a sore winner.

“Yes, thank you, you useless bit– uh, guy.” Klaus stutters through his tart reply, surprising himself with the censoring. Looks like he’s capable of it after all. Huh. He learns new things every day. Better late than never, he supposes.

“Who’re you talking to?” Says the itty-bitty, high-pitched voice of his niece, looking up from her work with intrigue beaming from every pore. Klaus winces from under it, cursing himself for not thinking. He does that a lot. Both cursing himself and not thinking.

Trading a panicked look with his brother, Klaus spouts off, “No one! I talk to no one a lot. I’m just nuts like that. That’s me, your crazy uncle. I’m absolutely bonkers, don’t mind me.”

“Does it have to do with your powers?” Ella continues as if he didn’t say anything, seeing through him like a pane of glass. Klaus looks to Ben with wide eyes, silently begging for help. The useless ghost doesn’t do anything except shrug with equally wide eyes.

Klaus turns back to his niece, opening his mouth to craft another falsehood, only to stop suddenly. He feels one of the mental dodgeballs slam into his gut, taking advantage of his falter of rhythm.

Ella’s unfairly huge eyes peer into him with pure earnestness, her soul radiating innocent curiosity. Her want to know more about him, about her family, flows out into the air around her like an oil spill in the ocean. He suddenly finds himself unable to lie to her, sure that any attempt would fail anyway. She hasn’t said a word, but at the same time, she’s relentless. He huffs into the air, irritated, but it’s empty.

“Yeah.” He admits honestly in a quieter tone, ignoring the way Ben starts to sputter at him in disbelief. The single word seems to fuel Ella like lighter fluid on a match, her entire body starting to rev like an engine at the small bit of information.

“What _ are _ your powers, then?” She bursts out as she sets her craft to the side, her full, excited attention on him now, “They must be scary, because Mommy wouldn’t tell me, not _ ever._”

“I can…” He sighs without finishing, rubbing the back of his neck, looking down at his feet to avoid her strangely patient gaze. How is he supposed to put this? She’s only, what, seven? He’s pretty sure that normal seven year olds are scared of ghosts. He doesn’t want to scare the shit out of her, but he’s already started now. Best to just go with the basics at this point. 

“I can see ghosts.” Klaus forces out reluctantly, refusing to look at the little girl or his confused brother, who he can see in his peripheral holding his arms up in a universal _ ‘What the fuck?’ _ gesture, complete with an incredulous, bewildered expression. He hopes Ben isn’t going to want an explanation, because he has no idea why he’s doing this either.

“_Ghosts? _ ” Is said in a gasp, causing both brothers to glance at the child who made the sound. In direct contrast to both of their expectations, Ellie doesn’t look scared at all. If anything, with her eager posture and bouncing legs, she looks _ excited. _ Her eyes hold no fear, only sparkles of intense curiosity shining brightly inside a nebula of exhilaration and satisfaction from finally getting the answers she craved, all held within the colors of deep chocolate, tree bark, and a glittering, swirling, _ alive _ golden light.

Klaus probably should have been able to guess that Ella is not a normal child, given the fact that she controls _ gravity_. Add deductive reasoning to the list. He quickly meets Ben’s surprised eyes, feeling his hopes for this encounter rise against his will.

“Uh, yeah, ghosts.” Klaus answers her, making his way around to sit on the couch opposite her while waving his hand dismissively, “Spirits, specteres, dearly departed souls, whatever you wanna call ‘em.”

“And you c’n see ‘em? Do they talk?” Ellie questions eagerly as she watches him come closer. He leans his elbows onto his knees, and Ella copies him, leaning forward towards him as if being told an important secret. He doesn’t really notice the movement, too busy pondering over her question.

(Ben notices it. He sees the way she seems to copy him without thinking about it, as if trying to be more like him. He sees how she tries to reign in her excitement to match his serious demeanor, but she doesn’t quite succeed. The feeling leaks out in the form of her twinkling eyes, her sometimes bouncing leg, and the smile that she has to repeatedly squash with a little scowl because it keeps crawling back onto her face. It’s adorable. She’s adorable. If he still had a heart, it would be melting. He just hopes it isn’t showing on his face, because Klaus does not need any more leverage to irritate him with.)

((It _ is _ showing on his face. He looks to be a few seconds away from crying happy tears. But thankfully for Ben, Klaus isn’t looking at him. Yet.))

Klaus isn’t sure how to answer her. He looks around, as if something around the room will help him. Not likely. This room is filled with useless fancy knick knacks and memories. The memories get more fond the closer he is to the bar. 

His eyes snag on the portrait of his lost brother hanging up on the wall. Five had always had an insatiable curiosity, a neverending drive for answers. He was seldom interested in Klaus, though. No one ever was. Klaus thinks that might be why he’s struggling so much– No one has ever asked him about his powers before. Dad always seemed to know everything about them; he always knew that Klaus was never good enough to wield them, he always knew Klaus wasn’t doing enough. No one ever asked- they knew it was Klaus’ fault that his powers were so uncontrollable. It was always his fault.

He wonders what he would have said if any of his siblings had asked. He looks away from his two-dimensional brother to his three-dimensional niece, who _ is _ asking him.

He’d tell them the truth, he decides. He’ll tell _ her _ the truth.

“More like scream, but yeah, I talk to them sometimes. I try to avoid it though. Most of them are of the ‘not nice’ variety.” Klaus finally answers her after a long while, during which she waits patiently without rushing him. Klaus then glances at Ben, thinking maybe he’ll know how to go about thi- _ oh my god is he fucking crying? _

“And the rest are just annoying,” Klaus finishes with a smug, teasing grin, “and _ emotional._”

“Thanks, dumbass.” Ben snips, shooting him a quick (_not watery) _ glare, and he is _ absolutely not _ sniffling as he looks back at his niece.

“What’d they look like, are they all, like, white, or just like people?” Ella’s off, her mind seeming to work faster than her mouth, which tries valiantly to keep up anyway, “Or are they like _ zombies? _Do they _ look _ dead? What do they say? Can you make ‘em see-able? Are they scary? Do you–”

Klaus blinks rapidly as the questions bombard him. He is… overwhelmed. <strike>(</strike>_<strike>No one has ever asked him before</strike>-) _ Which is why his mouth seems to disconnect from his brain for a moment.

“Well, they certainly don’t have as many questions as you do, motor mouth.” It says, trying to be playful but falling flat, the words cutting across the exuberant girl’s chatter like a falling guillotine. She stops immediately, her eyes widening and cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

**Things Klaus Hargreeves needs to work on:**

    * Situational Awareness
    * Coordination
    * Deductive Reasoning
    * The Whole Drug Addiction Thing, He Guesses.
    * _Speaking to Children._

Klaus winces at himself.

“Don’t be mean to the baby!” Ben shouts at him in reprimand, sounding more outraged than he has in a long time, even going as far as stepping forward through the couch to get in Klaus’ face.

“I’ll be mean to the baby when the baby is rude!” Klaus argues automatically against his better judgement, somehow forgetting about said baby sitting right in front of him. 

(Ella follows Uncle Klaus’s eyeline as she’s sidelined in favor of a one-man argument. He’s looking directly at the human-like blob of gravity. As if he can see it. He can see…ghosts. But is he actually looking at the blob, or is it a coincidence?)

Something sparks in Ben’s eyes as he clenches his jaw, a look that Klaus distantly recognizes from his childhood to mean either _‘Duck, I’m about to gut the guy behind you’ _ or _ ‘Who the FUCK took my twenty dollar bill?? You’re all in danger, I’m two seconds away from grabbing all of you at once and shaking you until someone confesses.’ _

Okay, that second one is a bit specific, but basically, it means Ben’s pissed and you’re in danger.

(Uncle Klaus’s line of sight _ follows _ the blob as it passes through the couch! This can only mean–! Wait, hold on a second–)

Klaus is almost surprised to see that particular look again. It hasn’t made an appearance for years, since Ben can no longer follow through with the threat that his eyes promise. 

(–Did– did Uncle Klaus call her a– He better not have– He _ did _!)

_“You _ were being rude, assho–” Ben starts to grit out, tapping a non-corporeal finger through Klaus’ chest, but he’s interrupted by an outcry of childish indignance.

“I’m _ not _ a baby!” Ella hollers, leaning back to cross her arms with a scrunched up, disgruntled expression, only to pause and tilt her head, relaxing her visage into a thoughtful, intrigued aspect, “Wait, are you talking to a ghost right now? Is there one here?”

“Uh...Yeah,” Klaus drags out the word nervously, looking between his brother and his niece with unease, “But it’s just Ben. He’s the nice one. Really annoying, though. He never leaves.” 

Many people may believe that Ben Hargreeves is the most mature of the Hargreeves brood. Klaus knows better. Case and point, Ben is sticking his tongue out at him right now. Klaus returns the gesture in kind, as you must when your brother is sticking his tongue out at you. He even screws up his face to add some extra flair that Ben lacks.

“Ben?” Ella questions, furrowing her eyebrows with her head still tilted, “Like Mister Ben from the alley?”

If Klaus didn’t know better, he’d say that her squinted eyes are darting between him and Ben with thoughtful puzzlement, but for once he does know better. It’s not possible. It’s not...Right? He thinks back to that weird moment during the family meeting from hell.

“The very same.” Klaus confirms slowly. Ella’s eyes widen with excited shock, a big smile snapping onto her face, and she starts bouncing a little on her cushion.

“He’s _ real? _ ” She gasps with reverence that Klaus imagines other children would save for Santa or the Easter Bunny, or some other childhood myth. But not Ella– she looks like he’s just told her that her imaginary friend– nay, _ God herself–_ is real. He didn’t realize that their moment in the alley had such a big imprint on her. He should probably be careful here, he realizes, children are even more easily influenced than he thought. 

The thought fills him with a sort of wary dread, but he can’t exactly back out now.

“Yeah, that’s him,” Klaus affirms, “and he’s my brother, so you should probably call him Uncle Ben.”

Ella’s eyes dim a little, her smile falling into a sort of sad open-mouthed expression, “Wait… the Ben that d-died on a mission? The one that makes Mommy s-sad when she talks about him?”

Klaus glances at Ben. There’s something in his expression that looks somewhat crushed, like he just got punched emotionally in the gut. His eyes are sad, filled with regret and an unnecessary amount of guilt, as if it was his decision to die horribly. Klaus doesn’t like that, but he doesn’t know what to say to help.

He sighs heavily, looking away from his brother to stare at his hands, “Yeah, I guess that’d be him.”

There’s a silent pause to let the three of them stew in their strange, belated grief.

“Where is he right now?” Ella breaks the moment with a quiet, almost timid question. Klaus looks up from his hands to see her peering at him with something like trepidation in her eyes.

Klaus waves around in front of Ben’s body next to him on the sofa, “Right around here.”

Ella’s little eyebrows furrow, her eyes lighting up with that excited puzzlement once again.

“There? B-but I can see him!” She exclaims with joyous confusion, “I can see you, Uncle Ben!”

_“What? _” Both brothers yelp out in shock, stunned beyond belief. Ella giggles, a pleased but baffled smile taking over her face again. Her visage relaxes into a happy expression, as if the mystery set before her delights her beyond words. She sits up again, bouncing in place.

“Yeah! He’s right there!” Ella says, pointing to Ben, and then gesturing around in front of her with both her hands, “He looks like a– a kinda blurry person? It’s like the weird greenish blobs I see sometimes, but he looks like a– a real person!”

“Wh– But– _ Wha– _ How?” Klaus sputters out, but Ella just shrugs exaggeratedly, still bouncing with her movement.

“I dunno! M-maybe all the blobs are just g-ghosts pretending t’ use gravity?” Ella guesses, her little head tilting again with her delicate brows furrowed into a frown on her forehead. Her eyes wander to the side in thought, one small hand holding her chin while her elbow rests on her knee.

“How do you know they’re pretending?” Klaus asks her, scooting to the edge of his seat without thought.

“They– they feel…_ wrong,_” Ella answers unsurely, but then looks up at Ben’s face with wide eyes and hastens to add, “Not all of them are– I mean, not all of them are wrong in a bad way– I mean, uh– You’re okay, I mean. Sorry, Uncle Ben.”

(Ben couldn’t be offended even if he tried. He’s too busy marveling at the fact that someone besides his dumbass brother is _ speaking _ to him. To _ him! _ Directly! He gives her a weak thumbs up, and tries not to <strike>cry</strike> whoop in joy when she smiles shyly at him and returns the gesture.)

Klaus looks between his dead brother and his alive niece as they communicate against all the laws of nature itself. This day has been fucking _ freaky. _ He closes his eyes tightly and shakes his head, much like a cartoon character, trying to decide on what to question first. He leans forward on his legs again when he chooses.

“What do you mean when you say they feel wrong?” He asks her. Ella refocuses on him, shaking her head to get herself on track, an unintentional mirror of him. Her body relaxes back into the couch she’s on, the tension of excitement finally leaving her as she thinks about his question with a pondering expression.

“I– uh, I mean– ...It’s– uh,” She cuts herself off with pinched lips, then tries again, “It’s…around ‘em, I feel _ weird... _ I dunno why they feel wrong, they just– they just d-do.”

Klaus opens his mouth, but she makes a frustrated noise, her eyes fixed downward and her forehead creased, like she’s scolding herself. She speaks again.

“No, that’s not it. Uh, it’s like… When I see ‘em, I just feel… dirty? Like, kinda like– like I just got done with gym practice and I’m all sweaty and icky, but I’m _ not, _ y’know?” Ella meets his eyes for only a moment, and hers are filled with something desperate and discouraged, like they are begging him to understand, but she cuts them away and continues before he can reassure her. 

“An’– an’ sometimes it’s w-worse with some of the bl-blobs, like wh-when I was upstairs, I saw some, and they ma-made me feel _ sick… _ they were… _ mean. _ Like they– they didn’t do anything, but they were– they were _ bad, _ I had’ta run away...it’s just… _ ugh! _” She seems to get more and more upset as she keeps going, until she finally bursts out with a growl of angry frustration. When she looks back up at Klaus, her lips are pursed, her nostrils are flared, and her eyes are dangerously close to shining with frustrated tears.

“I– My wo-words aren’t working right.” She finally admits quietly, avoiding his gaze, as if it’s something to be ashamed of. Klaus feels the overwhelming need to correct her.

“It’s okay, Ellie,” He tells her softly, and she snaps her eyes up to his face in surprise and cautious relief, “I think I get what you’re saying.”

“Really?” Ella asks dubiously with narrowed eyes.

“Of course! I’ve never lied, not once in my life!” Klaus declares with exaggerated exuberance. And, aha! There’s a small smile fighting for a space on her face.

“Not _ once? _” She repeats doubtfully, the smile growing and negating any of the suspicion in her eyes and voice.

“Not even once, good mademoiselle, not ever!” Klaus shouts pompously, crossing his arms and pointing his nose in the air to shake his head with playful firmness. 

He gets a small giggle hidden behind her hand. He’s the fucking master at this Uncle thing.

Ben rolls his eyes, then he moves across the space to sit next to the girl. Ella stops her giggling at once to watch him with shaky curiosity. After a moment’s hesitation, Ben sets his arm around the back of the seat she’s in, not touching her but still being close. Ella follows its movement before returning her eyes to the area of his face. She’s not quite looking him in the eyes, but she’s trying, and that’s more than Ben has gotten in _ such _ a long time. Ben looks over to Klaus, who is watching him curiously, and nods. 

Klaus gets what he wants. Ben turns back to Ella and begins speaking.

“B– Uh, Uncle Ben says that it’s okay to mess up your words sometimes,” Klaus carefully repeats his brother’s words for Ella, who swivels her gaze between them, “We won’t get mad or judge you for it. He promises. And I do too.”

“Okay,” Ella accepts this after a moment with a soft voice while looking at Klaus, and then turns her ever-expressive eyes to Ben’s form next to her, “Thank you, Uncle Ben.”

Ben, unable to actually say anything to his niece, simply gives her another thumbs up. She giggles at him and gives him a thumbs up of her own.

“So, uh–” Klaus clears his throat to propel himself out of the possibility of _ emotions, _ugh, “Is Ben different from the other, uh, blobs?”

“Kinda,” Ella answers, sitting up a little from where she had curled into the cushions, “He’s not bad. It still doesn’t feel _ right, _ but I don’t really feel icky. I dunno how to put it in words.”

Ella sort of winces when she says that, but Klaus simply nods, and it seems to encourage her to continue.

“An’– and he looks like a person, not just’a blob. He’s blurry and a little green and see through, but I can see his hands and his fingers an’ stuff,'' She points at Ben’s hand resting on his lap, and he wiggles his fingers at her with a soft smile on his face that grows when she giggles, “I’ve only seen one other blob that looks like a person, an’ it looks little, like me. Not that I’m little! It just looks like a kid, I guess. It follows Gramma Cara around, and– oh.”

Ella seems to have realized something, based on the way her face drops from the relaxed grin to an open-mouthed frown and wide, emotional eyes. She stares off into nothing for a moment, not saying a word. Klaus trades a wary look with Ben.

“What is it? Who’s Cara?” Klaus asks, unsure if this is something he’s supposed to know. He doesn’t recall a Cara being mentioned, but his memory can be finicky. Another one for the list. 

Ellie seems to escape her thoughts at his voice, “Huh? Oh, she’s Mommy’s best friend. And– and she– uh, if the blobs are ghosts…. That means he’s still there.”

“Who?” Klaus prompts again after she trails off, once again looking at Ben with a confused look.

“Chris– Christopher. Her– her baby. She only talked about him a f-few times.” She answers him distractedly with a shrug, still looking lost in her thoughts, “He was my age, an’ he got sick. He got really sick, so he’s gone.”

Ella seems to realize something that invigorates her again, her eyes snapping up to his with excited happiness sparkling in them: “But he’s _ not, _ he’s not gone! He never left her, she just can’t see him anymore!”

Klaus doesn’t know what to say to that.

“Do– do you want some more apple juice?” He says instead, pointing at her empty glass.

“Huh? Oh! Yeah!” Ellie replies, effectively distracted, “I can get it though–!”

“No, no, I’ll do it! I’m the adult here.” He objects, scooping up the glass and turning to go to the bar, where he left the bottle he stole from her earlier.

Ben snorts at his words.

“Well, relatively, I am.” Klaus mutters to himself. The ghost in the room shakes his head at his back as he walks away.

Ben is left alone on the couch with his niece.

He has so many things to say, so many things to ask, but he knows that if he tries to express them, he won’t be heard. He’s spent so many years wanting, _ longing _ to be noticed, and now that it’s finally happening all he can think about is how trapped he is by the barrier of sound. 

Ella knows he’s there, and even better than that, she _ believes _ he’s there, hell, she can even see him in a way, but she can’t _ hear _ him. If he tries to speak to her, she won’t hear his words of encouragement, his reassurances, his jokes. He’s suddenly being forced to face the fact that he is completely dependent on his brother, and he _ despises _ it. The caged feeling in his chest is enough to make him ponder whether it’s really worth it to have someone know he’s there.

“Uncle Ben,” Ella addresses him directly, which admittedly scares the shit out of him, so much so that he jumps. The feeling of shock that comes with being noticed will take a bit to get used to again. She turns to him, so he does the same in kind and listens intently as she talks. (To _ him! _)

“I know we never met when you were alive, ‘cause I wasn’t there yet, but Mommy tells a bunch of good stories about you, so I fe-feel like I miss you anyway.”

Ella says all this shyly with an embarrassed smile, only looking up at his face intermittently from her tiny wringing hands. Ben doesn’t know what to say to that, even if he could say anything, but it feels like someone smacked his chest hard with emotions. He wishes she could see his face, at least, so she could see how her words affected him. She’s probably left guessing, and he doesn’t know what to do to clue her in.

She continues, “An’– and I never cried about getting shots ever again, ‘cause you said they were good for me, I promise! I was brave.” She aims a toothy smile up at him, gaining more confidence, “I gue– I’m– Well, I still love you even if you’re a ghost, ‘cause you’re family. I– I just want you to know that in case you didn’t.”

Ben feels emotion swell in his chest and his throat.

“I– I love you too, Ella.” He croaks out without thinking.

She stares back at him without reaction. He feels disappointment crush his lungs when he remembers that she can’t hear him.

He sighs and puts his face in his hands, trying to stem his frustration before it takes him over. She knows he’s there, she’s talking to him, isn’t that enough? Why isn’t that enough for him?

“Uncle Ben? What’s wrong?” She worries, raising a hand as if to put it on his shoulder, but hesitating before actually touching his form.

Ben lifts his head in realization. She can see him.

He turns toward her again, then points to himself. She lowers her hand, paying attention to his movements. He makes a heart with his hands, points to her, and then holds up two fingers. _ I love you too. _

Ella smiles wide with a little bit of relief, as if she was worried she had made him upset.

“That’s good, then.” She replies happily, reassured, “Why were you upset?”

Ben pauses, thinking about how to reply. Then he waves his hand in front of his neck, makes a chattering motion with his other hand, holds up two fingers, and points to her. _ Can’t talk to you. _

“Oh.” Ella deflates, seeing the problem, “I can’t hear you unless Uncle Klaus tells me.”

Ben nods, then shrugs, as if saying _ it is what it is. _

“But we can talk like this, though! It’s like charades!” She says, perking up, but then furrows her eyebrows, “Oh, I suck at charades. It’s okay, I’ll practice so we can talk, promise!”

Ben, despite not being sure how one practices charades, can’t help but be touched by her oath. Unable to do much else, he gives her two emphatic thumbs up. Giggling through her smile, she copies him. It makes a grin crack through the emotions on his face.

Klaus returns with a not quite full glass of apple juice, setting it on the coffee table in front of Ella. She smiles up at him in thanks and leans forward to take a drink. He opens his mouth, but stops when he sees her use two hands like he was going to ask. 

(You’re probably wondering how Klaus knows all of these parental tricks, huh? Well, some of his wonderful sisters of the streets have been known to trade favors and...erm, _ substances _ for babysitting. He’s been way more desperate before, so he happily accepted the offer. And… well, he got attached to little four year old Gabe. The kid deserved better, so Klaus did the best he could while he was there. It wasn’t much, but he hopes he helped a little.)

As he reclaims his seat, Klaus looks between Ben’s emotionally constipated face and Ella nonchalantly sipping her apple juice, and asks, “What did I miss?”

“Nothing.” Ben lies.

“I talked to Uncle Ben, but he can’t talk back without you. So we used charades so he could say stuff back!” Ellie answers truthfully at the same time, causing Klaus to shoot Ben a smug, amused look as the ghost grumbles. 

“Would you like to play pictionary next?” Klaus offers gracefully, smirking.

“Shut up.” Ben snaps, quite rudely in Klaus’ opinion. He snickers.

“I can’t wait to tell Mommy!” Ella says, beaming away, “She’s gonna be so happy that you’re here, Uncle Ben!”

Klaus and Ben trade a loaded look. Klaus winces, sighs, and then leans forward towards Ellie again. He doesn’t know how to break this to her. He almost doesn’t want to, because the hope in her eyes is precious. There’s not much hope in this family, and he doesn’t want to be the one to snuff it out in Ella’s heart. Why the hell did he decide to tell her again? He can’t seem to remember through his regret.

His thoughts must show on his face, because Ella’s happy expression melts a little into confused concern. She looks between Klaus and Ben, even though she can’t see the latter’s expression. 

“What? What is it?” She asks, turning back to Klaus with worry. She probably thinks she said something wrong, which she kind of did, but it’s not her fault.

“About that,” Klaus starts, sounding apologetic, “Ben… well, he’s a secret. You can’t tell anyone he’s here.”

“What? Why?” Ella bursts out, sounding rightfully disappointed and a little angry too.

Klaus almost smiles ruefully. Why indeed? Why wouldn’t his siblings believe him? Why wouldn’t they even consider that Ben’s still there? Why wouldn’t they believe him when his whole schtick is _ seeing the dead? _

Well, Klaus knows part of the reason. He’s untrustworthy. A junkie. An attention whore. He can’t even trust his own senses a lot of the time. He gets it. And maybe they just didn’t _ want _to believe. They didn’t want to drag up all that pain and grief, just to risk being disappointed. Especially since the one time he tried was while they were still healing from Ben’s death. They didn’t trust him enough to take him at his word. They couldn’t risk themselves getting hurt again all based on blind faith. Faith in him, which they don’t have. Never had.

That’s fine. He gets that too.

(And maybe, just maybe, they would believe him now, but it might be _ him _ who’s too scared to risk rejection again. He tells himself he’s fine with that. <strike>Now he’s the one who doesn’t believe.</strike>)

But how to explain that to a 7 year old who has enough faith to fuel a whole religion? He’s not sure.

“I– Uh– It’s hard to explain, Ellie.” Klaus stumbles out, then clears his throat. He can’t seem to make himself look up at Ella’s face, because he knows that the upset expression housed there will make him throw away any semblance of an explanation.

She lets out an angry huff and Klaus glances up to see her arms crossed tightly against her chest. She isn’t looking at him or Ben, instead glaring off to her left and seemingly trying to bore a hole into the wall with her eyes alone. Her delicate little eyebrows are pinched, and her lips are screwed into a scowl, like she has a horrible taste in her mouth but doesn’t want to admit it.

“You could _ try, _ at least.” She spits, her glower almost softening into a pout before she catches it. She says it angrily, but also with disappointment, like she knows for a fact that he won’t even attempt to explain and there’s nothing she can do about it.

He’s going to try.

“They– my siblings won’t believe me,” He blurts before he can stop himself, and her eyes whip to his in surprise, but he looks down to avoid seeing the hope he’s about to crush, “Trust me, I’ve tried before. They never believe me.”

“They might believe _ me._” she insists decisively, leaning forward on her seat, trying to catch his eyes again with painfully firm belief in her own. He can’t look, he knows he won’t have the stomach to argue if he does.

“No, Ellie, I don’t think they will. They’ll believe that I told you that he’s there, but they won’t actually believe that he is.” He refutes sadly, his voice sounding like a sad sigh. Ella huffs, irritated with his resigned attitude while she’s just getting more fired up.

“Well– What about the blobs?" She points out desperately, gesturing a hand where Ben is sitting, "I can tell Mommy that they’re ghosts and then she’ll believe! I don’t know about the others, but Mommy will believe me, I know she will.”

Klaus doesn’t have enough blind faith in Vanya like her daughter does, and he feels his insides squirm with uncertainty at the thought of telling her.

“Y’know, she might have a point there.” Ben chimes in.

No, no, she won’t believe him, she’ll reject the very thought, and Klaus wouldn’t be able to handle that, he doesn’t see the point in even trying.

“But she won’t believe _ me, _ Ellie. She might think you’re just backing me up to play along, or that I’m manipulating you into seeing what you want to see.”

And if Vanya thinks he’s manipulating her child, she may keep him from talking to her. He could lose his little niece from this, and Klaus _ does not _ want that.

“But you’re not, I_ know _ you’re not.” She argues firmly, the belief in her eyes now aimed at _ him _ and that’s never happened before and he hasn’t earned that so why hell is she–

Klaus shakes his head and shrugs, “It doesn’t matter if that’s what she believes.”

“But she won’t, Mommy loves me–” Ella insists, and Klaus bites back a groan, getting frustrated with how stupidly optimistic this kid is, he’s given up, so why won’t she–

“Of course she does, but that doesn’t mean she’ll always believe you, right?” He tries to reason around the growing feeling of suffocation, he’s being backed into a corner here, he has too much to lose–

“Wrong!” Ella’s angry yet quavering voice breaks through the safe fortress of denial he’s trying to build around himself, she’s just boxing him in more– “She’ll believe us, I know she will–”

“It’s not a good idea, Ellie!” He yells out, and with his words, the walls around him snap back to normal. And there’s a loaded silence.

Ella’s staring at him with her big watery brown eyes and a wobbly frown, but she doesn’t back down. He doesn’t either, he has too much to lose if he tells, and...

Oh… He’s an asshole.

Uncle and niece stare each other down, their eyes both softening as the silence stretches onward, and then as one their gazes avert downward.

“Uh… Maybe say it's your secret to tell, like letting someone come out on their own?” Ben suggests awkwardly from where he’s looking between the two.

Klaus scoffs and looks up to glare at him, “You think a seven year old has other seven-year old gay friends that have come out?”

Ben winces and shrugs in a _ I dunno _ gesture.

“A bunch of moms in Cara’s neighborhood thought Cara and Mommy were gay, but they weren’t. Does that count?” Ella asks, looking to Ben who shakes his head no.

Klaus puts his face in his palm, slowly wiping it down to his chin. A sigh tumbling out of his lips, he crosses over to the other couch to plop down next to her, purposefully creating a bigger bounce than necessary to try and cheer her up. One side of her lips quirk up as she rides the bounce like a wave, but she doesn’t raise her eyes from her wringing hands.

“I’m sorry Ella, I shouldn’t have snapped.” He puts a hand on hers so she looks up at him, “The reason we can’t tell them is that we don’t have enough proof. They can’t see what we do. We’re the only ones who know for certain what the truth is, because we can see it.”

“I'm sorry that I yelled too, that was rude, I know... But I don’t think I like being the only one who knows.” Ella mumbles, chastising herself. Her eyes traveled back down to her lap through her confession.

“Well, good thing that you have me, and I have you now.” Klaus smiles, “We can share the secret with each other. And Ben, if we must.”

“Hey!” Ben protests, then swats a hand through his brother’s head for Ella’s benefit.

Ella huffs out something that is close to a laugh, but not quite.

“Maybe….”Klaus hesitates, but then continues, “maybe now that you know, we can get them to believe someday.”

Ella looks up at him, and asks, “Really?”

He was lying to make her feel better, but now that she’s looking up at him with that damn hope glittering in her adorable eyes, he feels like it’s actually possible. “Yeah, someday. Two can keep a secret if one of them is dead,” He points to Ben, who rolls his eyes, “and we are both very alive, so we can’t keep this secret forever.”

Ella smiles up at him, then looks down at their hands. She notices the rehab band and says bluntly, “Your bracelet is ugly,”

He takes his hand back and begins to pick at the plastic thing, unfazed by and somewhat grateful for the abrupt subject change.

“I completely agree with you there.”

“I’m gonna make you a better one.” She says firmly.

Klaus raises an eyebrow, “Is that so?”

“Yup,” Ella nods, picking up the abandoned project she had been working on earlier and shoving it into his hand, “I’m making this one for Aunt Allison, and then another one with the same colors but with sparkles for Claire. And I already made a keychain for Uncle Diego.”

“Hm,” Klaus hums along with her words, running his fingers over her handiwork.

“She’s good.” Ben adds from across the couch, also looking at the item in Klaus’ hands.

“Ben says you’re good at it.” Klaus repeats absentmindedly, seeing Ella immediately light up like a star at the praise.

“Thanks Uncle Ben!” She chirps, looking over at him but missing his eyes just so, “You and Uncle Klaus will have to both choose a color for this bracelet, since you can’t wear one. That way you can share!”

Ben’s soppy smile is so warm it could probably melt butter. Klaus doesn’t want to deal with his brother’s gushing anymore, so he pokes at the green strip of strings hanging on Ella’s wrist.

“What about this one? Did you make it yourself?” he asks.

Ella shakes her head, flipping the ratty, threadbare bracelet to show four letter beads spread apart at different intervals.

**E L L A**

“Mommy made this one when we were both learning how. It’s green, like my sparks,” Ella explains, smiling tenderly as she strokes the almost faded letters, “I was real little, so I had to make it bigger when I got bigger, see?” 

She holds out her arm so both Klaus and Ben can see the way the patchy, tangled strings transition into more expertly crafted braids. The entire thing is faded and stained, but the added segments are more vivid than the rest. 

“Do you ever take it off?” Klaus asks, eyeing the stains that could be anything from juice to blood. Though, probably not blood. Hopefully.

“Nah,” Ella says, shrugging and leaning over to pull something out of her backpack, so her voice is somewhat muffled, “Mommy tells me to, but I don’t wanna. If I ever get lost, I’ll still have her with me if I have this on.”

Huh… that’s… healthy. Too healthy for a Hargreeves. He should’ve known the only one that was actually _ born _into the family would be a black sheep.

Ella brings up a big square box and drops it onto the coffee table with a _ bang! _ The box is blue with sparkles embedded in it, but the sparkles are barely visible underneath the barrage of stickers decorating it. Some look older than others, he can see poor Winnie the Pooh is yellowed with age, and there’s half of the bouncy tiger on cocaine still there, but the rest of him is peeled off, replaced with a shit-ton of stickers from the movie _ Tangled, _ (_T__hat’s _ where he recognized her humming from!) along with some stars and Barbie fairies, with some scribbles of markers that he thinks are supposed to be words in between the pictures. There’s a lone umbrella sticker in the upper-right hand corner, seemingly allotted it’s own special space on the lid.

“So,” she starts, opening it to reveal a plethora of thin strings, organized by color and thickness, “Choose a color.”

Klaus looks between his niece, who is staring at him plainly, and the box of colors. He leans in towards her to look closer at the box, bumping their shoulders playfully.

“How’s your selection of hot pink?” He asks conversationally, leaning back to look down at her.

Ella smiles up at him, “It’s _ huge. _ What color does Ben want?”

Klaus reluctantly looks to his brother, who has a slow smirk growing on his face. Ben meets his eyes.

“The ugliest yellowy-green she has.” He requests.

Klaus scoffs, “I’m not telling her that.”

“Yes, you are.”

“No, I’m not.”

“You heard her, Klaus, we have to _ share._” Ben emphasizes the last word with a tone that is somehow both smug and childish, and 100% infuriating.

“Tell me what?” Ella asks, looking between them cluelessly.

“Nothing.” Klaus says, refusing to resign himself to the fate of a hideous bracelet that he knows he will _ have to _wear because Ellie made it just for him.

“Fine.” Ben says, still smirking, and then simply points to a color in the box that is indeed, disgustingly ugly.

“Oh, okay!” Ella responds happily, not judging her Uncle’s choice for a minute. 

Klaus starts to reconsider the benefits of someone else being able to see Ben. 

He stops glaring at the ghost only to look down at where Ellie is measuring a truly _ horrid _ color combination against his wrist, (with some tasteful dark red and a soft orange that she picked out, thank _ God,_) which prompts Klaus to give Ben the stink eye again, because this is _ his _ fault for once. But his brother isn’t looking at him. His smug smirk has morphed into something more sincere as he watches his little niece work on their shared bracelet, his hand hesitating above her head, as if he wants to smooth her hair back, but knows he can’t.

Ella, who has been jabbering about Very Important kid things the entire time, looks back at Ben to include him in the conversation and sees his hand hovering there. She stops her words short as she watches him quickly lower it again with a sort of sad conflict warring in her eyes. 

Klaus can see the moment where she comes to a conclusion, because she puts the strings down and fully faces his brother. Then, slowly, she reaches her small hand out to his incorporeal one, accidentally going through it once before settling her tiny palm against his. The illusion of touch.

“I know it’s not the same,” Ella says in the most comforting way she can, “But different doesn’t have to be bad.”

Ella doesn’t see the joyful, grateful tears in Ben’s eyes, but she does see his blurred fingers wrap around her hand in return, and that’s enough for her to smile at him, the beam on her face looking like a sunrise.

Klaus watches all of this quietly, and silently decides he wouldn’t mind being ganged up on again.

(But don’t tell Ben that.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...Yeah, sorry, that's it.
> 
> Tell me what you think of my grand return!!! Was it shit? Was it good? I wanna know what's happening up inside your heads!
> 
> (I am well aware that this chapter is slightly more emotional after that incident we shall not name in episode 9 of season two and yes I HAVE teared up about it!)
> 
> ((And can we talk about how season 2 Vanya??? Is pretty much this fic's Vanya??? But Gay and Happy??? Give Vanya a southern woman and a child I guess and you've solved the guide to a good plot!! lmao jk this plot isn't good I'm a jokester.))
> 
> PLEASE let me know what you thought, good or bad, or suggest some plot, or suggest a scene, or I don't know yell at me??? I just missed y'all so much, I wanna read your sweet sweet comments (even if they're constructive criticism!!!)
> 
> My tumblr is ellagracehargreeves if you wanna come yell at me there! (also I'm thinking of making a discord or something so we can talk more easily but I have NO clue how discord works so there went that idea.)
> 
> NEXT TIME: I do my best. I won't get your hopes up this time. Idk what happens next, I texted Vanya and Ellie but they left me on read, which is fair.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Little Wonders](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22872421) by [Jace_Diaz_Of_Hell](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jace_Diaz_Of_Hell/pseuds/Jace_Diaz_Of_Hell)


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